The Weekly

Because, maybe I should just call it what it is, right? Then, if I blog more than once a week, it's like this nice surprise. Like, ice cream. Like, cherries. As opposed to the crushing disappointment of coming here daily and seeing nothing new and wondering, "Will she ever come back? Is she dead? SHANE!"

Okay, maybe not crushing disappointment. After all, the rule of thumb is that nobody really cares about what happened to you today except you. However, if you're still reading this self-indulgent tripe, you must care a little bit...which makes you kinda weird.

But enough about you. Guess what I did last week?

First of all, I think I got stopped at that same roadblock that Jaimie did. Was it Sutton Bridge Road on Saturday night? My cop was nice and didn't ask me to step out of the vehicle, like that last time. Of course, this time I'd remembered to put my proof of insurance in my visor, instead of in the same glove box where I keep my .44. That always helps.

But I have another story for you today, an uplifting tale of hope and the domination of the human spirit over the evils of college radio.

You see, I was driving home from a very long day at work a couple of weeks ago. It was approaching 9 p.m. and I was in decent spirits, happy to be headed home. I didn't realize the emotional toll the day had taken on me. I didn't realize how much I needed Warren Haynes at that moment. I had the radio turned to the JSU college station, because I listen to NPR in the mornings, and sometimes they play cool songs in the evening, depending on the DJ. So I'm listening to the radio and this song opens on this funky organ solo. It's slow, it's long, it's patient, it's...familiar. Yes, I have heard this song many times before...what is it?

Then it comes to me. This is Soulshine. It's better than sunshine. It's better than moonshine. It's damn sure better than rain. And it's on the radio. I had no idea how much I needed to hear this song right now. The molasses organ crept up on the end of its run and it was almost time for that bottomless voice to tell me what to do when I can't find the light to guide me through a cloudy day. Then, it just. Stopped. Dead air. A pre-recorded announcer told me what radio station I was listening to, and another song came on, some inane garage band ear-bleeder that it's not safe to listen to while driving. Has that ever happened to you? It's happened to me before, but not like this. I knew I no longer had the number to JSU's radio station programmed into my cellphone, but I checked anyway. DJ, whoever you are, thank whatever god your black pagan heart prays to that my old cellphone died a year ago and that I was too lazy to transfer all the saved numbers over. Because that night, you awakened the slumbering wrath of the Amazon Diva within, and you would've wished for death before the end.

And yes, I have that song on CD. I didn't even try to listen to it when I got home. It wouldn't have been the same.

Now for the happy ending (shut up, Nathan). This past week, out of the blue, Jaimie invites me to a Gov't Mule concert at the Alabama Theatre. She had a last-minute dropout. So we went, and Warren sang that song to me. Just me. It was better than a CD. Better than radio. Damn sure better than rain.