It's a Beautiful Life

Ahh. My life is WONDERFUL!
I love being Rachel Sego. I love being happy. I love helping others be happy. I love the funny things I see and do. There is just so much joy to be had, if you'll only look for it.
Happy Thing #1-- Sweet little Road Trip.
So for my mommy's birthday, the girls went to see Aunt Sylvia. I had some church responsibilities so I had to come home early, but it was uber-worth it. There's just something good about getting out of the routine for a bit. I like driving to southeastern NM. I like listening to my iPod and realizing I like everything on it. It's a constant surprise. I like the way the 22 oz. soda cups at Allsups have kind of a gross smell-- like fried chicken and chimichangas under a heat lamp-- and that it's my stopping place. I liked the good antique finds in Roswell and Carlsbad and at my aunt's house (note-- took several pictures of her very, very inspiring house, which I imagine I'll post in tribute to her one of these days). I even loved peeing on the side of the road. OK, loved is an exaggeration, but it made me feel more legitimately nomadic.
Happy Thing #2-- New accessories.
In Carlsbad, I bought a little green veil. I might just save it for my wedding someday. At a boutique at their mall, I got a bracelet which reads, "Live while you live." Good advice, right? My friend Sasheen brought me the most amazing headband/scarf yesterday at church. She said she saw it in Arizona and she said I had to have it. I'm in love with it. And I'm in love with all those who have been good enough to help me replenish my jewels. It feels good to start fresh, though I'm a little frustrated with the way my dresser looks junked out-- gotta find a way to effectively display the jewelry. It'll come, though. I know it will. And I have time on my side.
Happy Thing #3-- People Watching.
So. I'm gonna admit something I'm mortified about. I broke the Sabbath. I NEVER do. I guess that's why I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, but a bestie and I went to see Willie Nelson, John Mellencamp and Bob Dylan last night. We got the tickets ages ago, and I've been consumed with wicked, wicked guilt for the last several weeks, because I'm just not used to doing something like that on Sunday. I'm happy to say the show was really fun, and I ended up enjoying myself, but no more Sabbath-breaking for me. Can't handle it. But this is about my happiness, so forgive my big-time lapse in judgment, and join with me in the glories of watching weird, weird old hippies dancing like crazy. I tried to take a video of some people behind us, including a 65-year-old woman's insane pelvic thrusts, but it was rather dark. Anyway, other highlights:
* A woman two rows behind us informing a lady sitting next to Lou-Lou that she'd taken her picture to send to South Dakota. We asked our seat buddy if she knew the gal. She said no, but she imagined she was having her photo taken because she was a Native American. Outrageous, yes?
* Because it was the 14th anniversary of Jerry Garcia's death, we saw the whole crowd give Jerry a peace sign.
* There was an awesome girl fight in the box seats right in front of us. The girl with the negligee dress and knee-high boots was fighting with the girl in the shiny/shimmery 70s gym-shorts skirt, and the girl with the tattoo sleeves tried to break it up. It was kind of funny to see Boots "apologize" to Gym Shorts, but also super awkward.
* Old folks dancing in general is very funny, but get the hippies involved and it gets even better. Some of these poor people looked like they were being careful to not get their prosthetic hips out of joint, but they were still very enthusiastic. There was a man who really thought that Bob would be greatly augmented with some head-banging and air guitar, and another gal who proved you can stripper-dance to ANYTHING, including folk music. Amazing.
* Plus also, I fell in love. There was a rather clean-looking, youngish-man (early 30s I'd say) sitting by himself across the aisle. I wish I would have talked to him. Instead, I stared at him, because I have a staring problem, and he stared right back. Staring evolved into furtive glances and then to laughing across the aisle about all the crazies around us. I thought about saying something and grabbing his elbow afterwards, or giving him my card (which would have been really lame, I know), but he was politely talking to another guy who'd come to the concert by himself and kept loaning my evening's boyfriend his binoculars. I'm considering posting the following in the Missed Connections on Craig's List or in the Weekly Alibi:

Dear Handsome Man in the Cross Canadian Ragweed T-Shirt in Section 4 of the Bob Dylan Concert-- I loved the little bit of grey at your temples and that you weren't wearing socks. Wish we would have talked. Love, the Girl in the Feather Fedora.

I'll let you know what comes of it.