Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m a married woman that’s in love with another man. The man is Marty Stuart. In case you don’t know, he’s a country artist that isn’t played a lot on country radio these days. He’s played with everyone from Lester Flatt to Tony Bennett. He had a few hits in the 90’s – most notably one with Travis Tritt called "The Whiskey Ain’t Workin’". He’s more traditional country and rockabilly. But none of that matters to me, I love the guy. And have been in love with him for a really long time.
He came to my hometown last night and played a concert at the local community college’s performing arts center. Oh, and yes, Hubby knows that I love Marty Stuart and that I would be making a complete idiot out of myself at this concert. Imagine whooping and hollering during a concert with a bunch of stodgey blue hairs. It was the best concert I’ve ever been to. Hubby and I have season tickets for this particular concert series and we’re about 8 rows away from the stage. I could stare at him and see the sweat on his upper lip. Oh, I even got his autograph and got a chance to tell him that I loved him. I was in HEAVEN!
I sang along with every song. I clapped and stomped and hollered. I’m surprised I have a voice left this morning. I clutched the CD with his autograph on it all the way home and I told Hubby that he has to bury me with that CD.
When Hubby first suggested getting season tickets for this particular concert series a couple of years ago, I thought he was nuts. We weren’t season ticket concert series kind of people. But I thanked Hubby last night for insisting on getting the tickets. If he hadn’t I wouldn’t have been able to be that close to Marty.
Like I told Hubby last night. I may love Marty, but I love him more because he’s the one that brought me to see Marty.
I’m off to listen to my autographed CD. . . .