Blades of singing grass

Had Phillip been born a few years earlier, had he been born English, if the laws were a little different, and if he had more of a tolerance for ridiculous nicknames, this is the person he surely would have married:

Yes, Sting, he of the Cooler-Than-Thou chiseled broodiness. Before I really knew Phillip, he was just "the guy who really likes Sting," and then, as I learned a bit more about him, he became "the guy who has a big fat crush on Sting." One night while we were hanging out in his dorm room, Phillip showed me the sacred cardboard box where he kept all his Sting and Police cds and paraphernalia, imports and boxed sets included. I have heard eighteen different versions of 'Roxanne', can sing along in French to 'La Belle Dame san Regrets', learned how to count 7/4 time by listening to 'I Was Brought To My Senses', and am in full agreement that while 'Fields of Gold' was admittedly popular amongst the unwashed masses, it's artistically lazy and a bit boring compared to some lesser known items in Sting's vast repertoire of Great Musical Masterpieces.

Phillip had, in my opinion at the time, somewhat bizarre musical tastes. One of my first Phillip memories revolves around a Harry Connick Jr. taped performance that Phillip found at a thrift store. (Well, I don't think that's true, I think he may have picked it up somewhere else, but I totally can't ask him because then he'd want to know why I want to know and then he'd find out that I'm writing about how he's carried a torch for Sting and then he would positively kill me.) So anyway, I'm sitting in his room and we're watching Harry dance around and Phillip is giving me a fascinating lecture on the technicalities of big band music and Harry's particular talents- how could I not fall in love with this guy?

But his affinity for Harry (and Bela Fleck and Bruce Hornsby and Boyfriend Runner Up Joshua Redman) in no way compares to his enduring love for all things Sting. Which is why, awesome wife that I am, I purchased a pair of tickets to Sting's concert tomorrow night for his anniversary gift. (The first anniversary is paper and I bought tickets. Which are printed on paper. I am awesome AND clever!)

So tomorrow we will brave the horrific Friday afternoon traffic and get ourselves down to the White River Amphitheatre for the Sting/Annie Lennox Sacred Love tour. We have "lawn" tickets for a rain or shine venue which means "hope the wet grass doesn't completely soak through your jeans AND your underwear." It IS October, after all, so what was I thinking buying tickets to an outdoor concert in October? Oh, I know. I was thinking, "Phillip is going to LOVE me!"

Our friend Sarah called last night and told us her parents are going to the Sting concert and isn't that funny and we said "Ha ha, that IS funny!" but deep down we were thinking, "Holy crap are we now Adult Contemporaries?" What's next? Michael Bolton? (Who is, like, SUPER POPULAR in China, by the way.)

Anyway, let's all pray for nice weather and not too much Annie Lennox. She frightens me. Doesn't this woman freak you out a little bit?

Any tips for surviving an outdoor concert in the fall can be sent to mightymaggie@hotmail.com. Any mail complaining about my insufficient and less-than-enthusiastic praise of Sting will be forwarded, unread, to Phillip.