Woohoo. We went out to lunch with John and Dan (actually it was brunch, but we’re all too middle aged to admit that) where they revealed John’s christmas present from Dan was tickets to Bette Midler’s show in Las Vegas in March. My squeals of jealousy made people out on the street assume they were slaughtering pigs to make fresh sausage. John, god love him, immediately jumped in and urged us to join them.
Have I ever mentioned R Man’s taste in music stretches from the Renaissance to the Baroque, but not much farther? Handel is his idea of contemporary listening and while I share his fondness for early music, I also harbor a passion for, say, Ms Midler’s “One Monkey Don’t Stop No Show.”
I pretended to not notice R Man’s lack of enthusiasm and climbed up on John’s Nevada bound bandwagon. Not that I’m really wild about visiting Las Vegas, but if that’s where Bette is (in the big ass show room originally built for Celine Dion. Howzabout that?) then count me in.
Here’s a bulletin: tickets to this shindig are not cheap. I just spent more for a pair of them than I did on the first car I bought, ever so many years ago. Still, I’m already looking forward to this. And since I announced to R Man these are my birthday present, I might as well be.