I’m going to see The Tallest Man on Earth tonight which has reduced me and my fellow concert going pals to giddy school girls. He is like a Swedish Bob Dylan, plaid-wearing adorable folky guy who, ironically for his monicker, is actually quite slight in stature. The week has seen a barrage of emails discussing his marriage to a curly haired hat wearing cutie and whether we should invest in floppy hats and perms.
Today’s email included a report that my friend had dreamt that she was having ice cream with the singer. Our other friend quickly responded that in her dream he was making her ice cream on their farm. I have them both beat. I am wide awake, watching him on video while eating real ice cream.