No day is a failure that begins with a bug, continues with acupuncture, is fraught with friends, involves a Grand Ole Opry legend and a hot indie chick band, and ends with three rock gods jamming out the best song ever.

Bob Dylan, or perhaps that little kid at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life, said that.

I woke up at my parents’ house this morning, where we had a special guest star.  I then reported to my acupuncturist for some chakra-balancing.  Then, Leeann, Chad, Derek, and I loaded up and traveled here.  We heard the aforementioned Charlie Louvin–who is off the chain, kind of like your crazy great-uncle/grandpa who also happens to be a founding father of country music–as well as Those Darlins, who were buzzy, sexy, and cool.

(I’m cutting short this account, as I’m sleeeeepy after such a awesome-packed day.)

We were all tired when we got home from the cave, but I still wanted to go see It Might Get Loud at the Belcourt.  My friends all bailed (I excuse a couple of them, but I do not excuse a couple of others.  I know this will be a source of great concern for them all.), so I went by myself.  This ended up serendipitous, as I’d have smacked whoever would have ended up beside me with every moment of giddiness.  I was so happy/proud to be a Nashvillian, a music lover, and one of the lucky ones maimed by rock and roll.  And the end of the movie?  I won’t ruin it the finale, as it were, but I will say I am now convinced they made this movie for me.

I thank them kindly.

Now, my night-bathed self will retire into my soft jersey sheets.  Tomorrow will continue the hardcore awesome with a trip to the zoo!