Rock On Gold Dust Woman

Two completely unrelated topics...

First off, I went to the Fleetwood Mac concert last night. They were amazing. Lindsey Buckingham just goes and goes. And Stevie Nicks? Awesome.

Our seats were kind of high up (try just one row from the top), but we were to the side of the stage, so we could see them pretty clearly. Stevie still dresses the same (all flowy, lacy, and witchy), but she was wearing these shoes that can only be described (from my vantage point) as appearing to be orthopedic. So much so that when she hauled out the sparkly gold shawl for "Gold Dust Woman", the effect was more granny than "Rock on, Gold Dust Woman".

She did sing my favorite Fleetwood Mac song, "Gypsy". And the coolest part was she told a story about how she wrote the song. Something about when she first met Lindsey in the 60's and they were touring like gypsies. One of the first places they played was San Diego! It was cool. That song always reminds me of S. Not sure why, but I was glad they played it.

Secondly, a few months ago, I was riding up the elevator, talking on my phone, one afternoon. There were two guys on the elevator with me, and I can only imagine that they thought I wouldn't notice because I was on the phone, but they were totally talking about me. Complimentary stuff, but still, it was kind of awkward.

Anyway, a little while later, I ran into one of them downstairs in the courtyard, smoking a cigarette. He introduced himself (his name was Cash, editorial decision to include his name, it's just odd enough not to really matter, plus, he'll never know he's a featured topic on my blog. Oh! Which reminds me! I just saw that I have an actual follower whom I do not know! My first. Welcome! Not sure how you found me. Tell a friend!) Anyway. We chit chatted, he told me he lives in the building, manages (or owns, the story keeps changing every time I run into the guy) this really hip bar/restaurant downtown. Invited me to meet him out later that night. Alas, he is totally not my type. I think I may be taller than him by a good inch.

Whatever. Cut to a few weeks later. Again, I run into him in the courtyard.

"Cash? Right?" I ask.

"Yes, and you are?"

"Moo. We met a few weeks ago." I remind him. Again, we have the same conversation. Lives in the building. Owns (or is it manages?) hip downtown restaurant. Blah, blah, blah.

This happens every single time I see this guy. It's like it's freaking groundhog day. The last time I ran into him I just pretended we'd never met. He came over and introduced himself. Good Lord. I have now decided that the next time we "meet", I'm going to give him a fake name. And I will give him a different fake name every single time after. This will be fun!