Who says you can't go home?

Hope and I are taking the show on the road: The Mrs. Dunbars are playing two shows in St. Louis.  This is super exciting because Saturday night at 1900 Park we get to split the bill with some great St. Louis singer-songwriters we met when we went to Folk Alliance Region Midwest last fall:  Eric Barnes, Jane Godfrey, and Bryan Ranney (go to my shows page for links to their music).  This is also exciting because St. Louis is my hometown, where I have never played a show. 

Though it had been a dream of mine since the first time I saw the Go-Go's video, I did not start playing guitar until I moved to Nebraska in 2001.  I know I tortured my facebook friends with RealWomenRealSongs posts every week last year, but those videos aren't really representative of what a show is like.  I received lots of support from my hometown friends when I put out my album, but that was five or six years ago (OH MY STARS, how is that possible?!).  Really, the last time most of my St. Louis people saw me perform was singing "Groovy Kind of Love" in a red polyester Swing Choir dress or in Kirkwood High School's 1992 production of The Pajama Game in which I played Gladys tangoing and singing "Hernando's Hideaway" (olé!).  So, this homecoming is a very late debut of sorts. 

I am excited and nervous.  Who will show up?  What will their expectations be and will I meet them? Ultimately, the root of all these questions is this: will I be good enough?  I suppose that question runs through my mind before every show.  If I'm really honest, it runs through my mind most days. Yours too, right?    Here's what I tell myself before most shows, but I think it applies to life as well:  I have done all I can do to prepare.  It's no longer about "good enough" but about being who I am in this moment and letting that vulnerability forge a connection between me and those around me.  And it's about having the most fun possible.

I'll let you know how it goes.  Or come to the shows, and you tell me how it's going (with applause and woo-hoos and whatnot).  I'll be having a great time yucking it up on stage with Hope, cracking wise, singing songs, bringing the harms,  and being vulnerable--not vulnerable like when you saw me in the Kirkwood High School 1991 production of Guys-n-Dolls in which I played a Hot Box Girl (seriously) and we had full-monty velcro dresses (seriously--with leotards underneath) that we threw into the orchestra pit (seriously).  Not like that.  But vulnerable none-the-less.

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