Current mood: devious
Category: Parties and Nightlife
Still no power at my house. Day Eight of living the Amish life.
Actually, my week has been anything but Amish. I split town on Wednesday night, as I was long overdue for a trip to Nashville. I thought my love affair with that city was over, but it's really an out-of-sight-out-of-mind thing with me. As soon as I crossed the border, I felt electrified, and not just because Nashville happens to have power.
I went to a bunch of the shows for the Americana Music Conference and ran into about a million people I knew. Popped by the awards show at the Ryman on Thursday, where half the industry was there -- Robert Plant, Alison Krauss, Joan Baez, just to name-drop a few.
Then I got antsy because I can't sit still these days, and grabbed a beer or three with an old friend around Lower Broadway. We went to this crazy private club where I'm sure there were lots of people whose names I should know, but I don't. I don't really care, either.
Come to think of it, I'm really really really bad about recognizing celebrities. When I lived in New York, I lived next door to Ricki Lake and saw her daily. It took six months before I realized who she was. I had a class with Christy Turlington and had no idea. Anyway, the point is that, it was one of those crazy Nashville clubs that would probably impress a reader of Country Weekly.
But it wasn't NEARLY as much fun as the Soiree Under the Spires at Churchill Downs on Friday, back in Louisville. Peter and I played a set during the sit-down dinner at the track. It was part of the Ryder Cup, and the party was just fantastic.
I learned that even really expensive champagne still gives you a killer hangover.
And yet again, Peter and I got our picture in the online photo gallery. I always feel funny when we're listed in the bold-faced-names/social scene section of the paper, even if it's just the online edition. I'm not exactly a Social Scene kind of Girl -- i never even had a bat-mitzvah, much less a debutante ball -- so having my photo taken at some fancy gala makes me think I'm hoodwinking someone. Tee hee. It's kind of fun.
I'd like to thank Kristi, my fabulous makeup artist for the night. And Layla, who let me borrow a dress and some electricity.
I also met several important folks in the Irish government, and I tried to talk them into giving me an Irish passport. They actually started the conversation with me, commenting on my red hair and freckles. They had no idea what they were starting by talking to me first ... I immediately told them my name was "Brigid. With a 'D,'" like you're supposed to spell it. This excited them more. I also happened to be sipping on a Jameson's, so I told them maybe they could bend that ancestry rule for me and give me a passport. No dice. But I got their cards, so maybe if I write them a novelty song about moving to Ireland ....
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