In almost exactly 36 hours, I plan to be on the road to Michigan.  We have a 7 and a half hour drive ahead of us, to Mount Pleasant, which is somewhat of a pilgrimage for me.  It’s a sentimental stop on a journey to a concert in Detroit.

So of course I’ve been sick for the last two days. *eyeroll*

My husband never gets sick.  Mr. Coyote has had exactly 2 colds and one bout of food poisoning in the 8 years we’ve been together.  I’m not even worried I’m gonna jinx him; he’s just one of those obnoxious great immune system people.  I on the other hand get every stomach virus that rolls around, and often at pretty inopportune times.  I also managed to encounter blue-green algae in a river in Ottawa last year, and nearly missed another show–to which I had front row centre seats!

However, one thing y’all need to know about me right off the bat: nothing, but nothing, keeps me from a show.

I made it to that one, hopped up on Gravol, and enjoyed the heck out of my front row centre experience.  I got smiled at, sung to, it was great–and by halfway through the show I was feeling on top of the world.  A few years back, I leaned on the stage throughout an amazing 2+ hour show, craning my neck to stare straight up as my favourite singer, Lindsey Buckingham, played about 6 inches away.  I had a pinched nerve in my neck at the time–ask me if I cared?

No, no I did not.  That’s the ceiling behind his head.

And it’s Lindsey I’m going to see this time, too.  People always ask why/how/WHY I go see the same people over and over.  It’s hard to describe.  I know the setlist doesn’t change much, especially between multiple shows on the same tour.  I know I’ve seem him many, many times before.  I am lucky enough to have met him before (in fact, he is responsible for the “kooky” in my name), so what else am I looking for?  I don’t know.

But going to his shows, and those of my other favourites, is like going home after a long, long time away.  It’s a release from the depression and anxiety I’ve battled all my life.  It’s a distraction when my world is collapsing around me, and a higher high when things are going well.  And to me, every show is a little bit different.  Somebody will yell something out in the crowd and crack up the artist; I’ll manage to catch the artist’s eye and make them smile, make them sing to me for a moment, make them laugh.

It’s intoxicating.

I introduced Mr. Coyote into this world of mine back in 2011, the year that picture was taken.  I don’t think he sees it the same way as I do, but he loves the music, and loves me, so he comes along.  Sometimes.  Before him, even if I was meeting up with friends when I got to a show, I rarely sat with them.  It’s easier to find great seats when you’re looking for a single seat, pro tip.  And I do still do some shows alone, and certainly still with friends all over North America.

But this time, he’s along for the ride.  We’ll stop at Soaring Eagle Casino in Mount Pleasant, Michigan first.  It’s a sentimental journey for me: I met one of my very favourite musical heroes there in July of 2006, and somewhere along the line, I’ve lost the shot glass I bought as a souvenir there.  I’ve always wanted to replace that thing, not because I’m a shots drinker (I’m so not!  It was just the cheapest thing there, and I was broke) but because I wanted to have that memory back with me again.  I’m excited to get back there, excited to see that shot glass on my shelf with all my other mementos when I get home.

But first, I’m excited to start feeling better!  Show day is Sunday.  I’m optimistic.

Nothing keeps a kooky coyote down.  Right?