Ah, Sugarland...what a great concert!

B and I made our way to Atlantic City to see Sugarland in concert today. When I came downstairs and saw her in a t-shirt and jeans, I blurted out, "Is that what you are going to wear?" Boy, I sounded just like my mother!

B and G are looking into purchasing a spice store on Main Street. We were planning to go visit the store before the concert, so B offered that we could stop in the thrift store nearby and try and find the jacket I insisted she should be wearing.

Here is what we purchased. Personally, I think she looks hip, but G's first comment upon seeing his wife was that we were dressed like twins. Pshaw! We both just happen to look like we are on our way to a concert, right?














B graciously offered to serve as my chauffeur. Here she is gassing up the car. She dutifully smiled at me and did not mind the fact that I was already whipping my camera out every five seconds.











It took several tries to get a photo of the road signs to Atlantic City because I kept turning off my camera to save the battery. While I finally managed to take one (you have to ignore the dirt on my windshield), I missed the best sign of all: the one that says Welcome to Atlantic City!











We were able to park at a garage attached to the Trump Taj Mahal, although we had to pay, go out, and come in again in order to take advantage of the handicapped parking that was available.









Our plan was to arrive in Atlantic City early enough to go out along the Boardwalk, since I have never been there. On the Steel Pier (did you ever see Wild Horses Can't Be Broken?), we rode the Ferris Wheel and got temporary tattoos. B chose "Truth," which you can see here. I got one on the inside of my left wrist.
















Aside from our ride in the sky, we ate copious amounts of unhealthy boardwalk food, including a funnel cake, and then spent some time walking along the boardwalk and the beach before the concert started.




Here we stood on the beach while I tried to hold out the camera in such a way to capture a photo of us with the Trump Taj Mahal in the background.








The year I returned from Africa after serving as a missionary, I met up with two fellow missionaries and their children at Ocean City, Maine for a week long respite. I remember that I was amazed that you could spend time at the beach and not swelter. Having grown up in Texas, this was certainly never the case. In fact, it was so cool, even in August, that we could only stay in the water for a few minutes at a time. The peace of that visit has remained with me over the last two decades, so strongly did I revel in that time.

Standing on the beach, I couldn't help but remember both my time as a missionary and the gift that couple gave me after we had returned to the State. B sensed my introspection and asked me what I was thinking about, but while I share everything with her, I did not want to bring a pall upon our trip with the reminder I had at how very different my life has become...certainly not a life I would have ever imagined.



While I rather enjoyed the crisp almost-autumn air, B started to get cold and practically froze by the time we returned to the casino. Shivering from head to toe, B still waited while I tried to capture the Steel Pier attractions all lit up. Five photos later, this one seemed to do the job. B hastened inside.

We spent some time walking about the casino floor because we had planned to do one small bet each. I had hoped to at least play Black Jack. But at Trump Taj Mahal, there are no "small" bets. While we were searching the tables to see what our options were, I realized that I needed to sit and to sit soon.

As the day turned to evening, walking had become more difficult. I had brought my cane and could not have managed the trip without it. But sometimes when I push it, the moment of critical mass sneaks up on me in such a way that I have little time to address the need to find a place of rest. I think B would have carried me to our seats if she could, and she never once made me feel as if our snail's pace. Once she even made me smile because she raced away, walked back and repeated her actions twice more before asking "Who am I?" I chuckled at her way of telling me that she loved me and my limitations didn't matter to her. Some times I swear B can read my mind!

The concert was everything I could have wanted and more (with the exception that it was patently clear B was there for me, not for Sugarland--apparently she enjoyed their music but cares not for concerts). The first Sugarland concert, if you recall, ended with me in the local hospital. The second one had no medical emergencies, but the sound was off and Jennifer Nettles sounded more like a chipmunk than the talented singer she is. This one was perfect. Sugarland started with my favorite song off their latest album and sang many of my favorites of their repertoire over the course of the evening.

As D texted me to do, while we were still traveling down the highway, I sang "loud and proud," not caring what anyone thought. I did need to use both inhalers and my cough pill twice. B also went and fetch me some very expensive water to help me stave off an attack. I was worried I would have another one since some of my coughing during the attack I had last night was rather violent, which usually means I will have a string of attacks before breathing freely once more. Perhaps it was the joy of the evening that truly was the reason why I was able to sing without dire consequences. In any case, I most thoroughly enjoyed myself.



Is it the face of a child
Is it the thrill of danger
Is it the kidness we see in the eyes of a stranger
Is is more than faith
Is is more than hope
Is is waiting for us at the end of our rope

Chorus:
I say, it's love
I say, it's love

Is it the one you call home
Is it the Holy Land
Is is standing right here holding your hand
Is it just like the movies
Is it rice and white lace
Is it the feeling I get when I wake to your face

I say, it's love
I say, it's love
I say, it's love
I say, it's love

Is it the first summer storm
Is it the colors of fall
Is it having so little
And yet having it all
Is it one in a million
Is it a chance to belong
Is it standing right here singing this song

I say, it's love
I say, it's love
I say, it's love
I say, it's love
I say, it's love
I say, it's love

Is it a veil or a cross
Is it the poet's gift
Is it the face that has launched over thousands of ships

Is it making you laugh
Is it letting you cry
Is it where we believe that we go when we die
Is it how you were made
Is it your mother's ghost
Is it the wish that I'm wishing for you life, for your life, for your life the most


Our trip home was made all the more shorter because B completely ignored my pleas to stick with Maggie's (my Magellan GPS) instructions to stay on Atlantic Avenue until we got to the express way. She has more confidence in her driving abilities than do I mine and has many suspicions where Maggie is concerned. Of course, I am reluctantly admitting that B was absolutely, completely right in this matter. The first 4 tenths of a mile to the express way took over half an hour. The last 3 tenths took a matter of seconds...practically speaking. Okay...we had to wait for one light before we zoomed on our way.

On the way home, B and I stopped for more food, since our stomachs had already forgotten all the junk food that had been stuffed into them just a few hours before and I was fevently hoping the TCBY located there was still open. I find it slightly vexing and slightly humorous that the food at the visitors' station was even more expensive than the costly food we had on the Boardwalk. But when your stomach is grumbling, substantially lightening your wallet for mere junk food bothers you less than when you are sated and more sensible.

At the start of our return trip, B tolerated me listening to (and singing along with) Sugarland's latest album as I waxed poetically about how much I enjoyed the concert. Since B had not (yet) memorized their music, we then switched to Chris Rice so she could sing as well.

B also listened to me talk about the physical changes that concern me so, since my hobbling about the evening weighed heavily on my mind. Not yet three years has passed since our trip to Italy where we traisped through Rome, Pompeii, Pisa, Florence, and Venice from morning til night for fourteen days. I would not make it even half a day now. We also talked about my vision and how much it bothers me not to be able to see clearly either close or far and to know the reason is not because I have not the proper lenses but because my brain is no longer able to work properly when it comes to vision, amongst other things. B is a good listener, even if she sometimes hurts because she wants to help me and feels helpless to do so. However, I do not expect her to have any answers. Her kind ear and supportive love does more for me than she could ever know.

We stumbled into bed at 2:00 in the morning, B glad to be home and me with a smile on my face as the music of the evening still lingered in my ears.

Let go laughing