Datebook: Monday, August 28th ~ 2006

My friend and I are Toby Keith Trekkies.

Seriously.

Last week marked our fourth concert in the same number of years as we bob and weave our way to the front of the stage, moving closer through musical chairs each year.

We are on a “Holy Grail” mission to find the best seats.

And we are Toby Keith seat snobs. We can only sit in the center and not past row 14.

I will only admit here, in the shadow of being the unknown, that last year we paid 485.00. Per ticket. That did include VIP parking, and a backstage pass to dine under the Toby tent. This year we saved 200.00 by foregoing the parking and celery sticks under the big top. So, to my way of thinking, we saved money.

Here is the truly odd thing. My friend and I are not cowgirls. We rarely listen to country music. In fact, both of us have a Cindy Lauper song as our ring tones (seriously, neither one of us even told the other before doing it!).

My car CD holder at moment has Prince, Milli Vanilli, Madonna, the soundtrack from “Philadelphia”, Josh Groban, Celine Dion, Elton John and the soundtrack for the Broadway musical “Spelling Bee”. In addition, I have four CDs that my son has made for me of songs I have requested—my favorite starts with “Hallelujah” from Shrek and ends with Clay Aiken’s “To Love Somebody”.

I can’t explain it. Once a year, two seemingly normal professional women don cowboy hats, boots, jeans, and snap-button shirts after removing Donna Karan suits and David Yurman jewelry.

We are incognito as “Red Neck Women”.

Last week was a true test of our commitment. After no rain for 34 days, a torrential monsoon delivered a four hour drenching.

And there we sat.

We had the foresight to bring clear ponchos--okay, the two for a dollar pack that go under the front car seat for emergencies and are slightly less bulky than their cleaner bag cousins.

Well, sitting is not really an accurate depiction.

No one sits for Toby Keith.

With rain running down our backs, and cowboy hats tapping time by the thousands, we sang along to every song we knew.

And I think that might be the answer to the mystery.

This is like detox for me.

This is a release of all the pent up tensions and anxieties that hitchhike on my soul all year.

This is the anti-European/American/Midnight waltz. There is only the sound of the music without watching edges, twizzles, or timing.

So I stood in the pouring rain, while Toby sang “I Should Have Been a Cowboy”, feeling at peace in the universe.

And then my girlfriend turned to me and said, “Wouldn’t this be a great song for the kids to skate to next year? I heard it’s supposed to be a country western theme.”

Of course, I thought.

Where else did they get the idea of a rhinestone cowboy?

Mombo #9