House concert. Private show. The stage they built me looked almost like a John Prine album cover. The bbq was out of this world. The Mac and cheese tasted exactly like my deceased grandmother’s. The dogs were wonderful. The fire pit was the size of Delaware. Seriously. The stage was almost 20 feet from the fire and was a very pleasant temperature, despite it being 49 degrees out once the sun went down. Wonderful people. I’d never met them and didn’t know anything about them, so I got paid in advance. In addition to my rather fat fee (it was an hour drive each way, so I built that in), the tips from their guests were incredibly generous. I won’t be tacky and talk numbers, but I woke up Sunday morning and ordered all of the microphones I’ve been looking at for my new recording endeavor, and still handed a fat chunk to the CFO here at Jakedog industries. Just look at this. And they had the nerve to ask me if I’d come back in the spring. Can you even imagine? I told the hostess I might just move in out there and make myself the house entertainment.