Some beans were had. Also: good cornbread.

So we ditched the mancub with Stacey’s unsuspecting coworker Sarah, and toddled off to see Mr. Lyle Lovett at Chastain last night. We parked in the Yellow Lot, and almost immediately realized we were Chastain Neophytes, because we had not brought a picnic dinner with us. However, armed with roughly $17,000 worth of concession stand hotdogs (2) and pretzel (1), plus two free thimble fulls of terrible wine from a nearby promotion booth, we settled back for a delightful concert.

The man can sing. Lordy, how he can sing.

Plus, he’s funny. He told us how he loved Atlanta and our big trucks all over the road; they made him feel safe. It’s those little cars that are the danger… they can get caught up under your bumper and wheel.

Hello. I’m the guy who sits next to you and reads your newspaper over your shoulder. Wait, don’t turn the page, I’m not through yet. Life… is so uncertain…

The first time I heard that song, I was in a painting class in college. The class had about 15 people, all set up, concentrating hard, painting away at something or other on easels. Here I Am came on, and I put down my brush after the first line. After the second verse about half the class had put down their brushes and were looking at each other with half-smiles on their face. By “cheeeeeseburger”, the entire class was laughing out loud. A lot of Lyle Lovett albums were sold that day.

…what Corn Flakes are to Post Toasties, what Hank Williams is to Lance Armstrong…

I also learned that I simply don’t have enough Lyle albums, because the ratio of Songs I Know to Songs I Didn’t Know was way too low.

The rain held off (I won’t even say the “R” word tonight), and he sang about his pony and his boat, and his beans and his good cornbread, and his little redneck woman. Francine did a song, and to be honest, I’m not sure that the majority of the audience didn’t come to see her. They were enthusiastic about Lyle, but they were nuts about Francine. Leeeave everything to me.

A good time had by all.