What are the chances that I'll get front row center again for a Springsteen concert? I mean, last time I had the back problem that enabled me to get there. Friday night in Sacramento, we've got general admission tickets. Do you think I can convince Pete to pull up his shirt to show his still-fresh triple bypass wound? I mean, Jerry and I are tight. Who's Jerry? Why he's the one in charge of letting the disabled folks in ahead of everyone else. It's how I scored front row center last time.
Perhaps I'm getting slightly ahead of myself. I mean, I've yet to find a babysitter for the kids Friday night. Is 11, 9.5 and 6 in 11 days too young to stay home alone until 11:30 or so at night? Would you call Child Protective Services on us for that? I was afraid so.
[Photo courtesy of Pete's cell phone. I'm morally opposed to selling Bruce's image for monetary gain, but seeing as I lose money doing this blog, I guess it's okay.]