So, I have a confession to make.
For the past few weeks, I've been listening to a lot of . . . country music. I know. You don't even need to say anything for me to electronically feel the judgment pouring in waves from your disbelieving face as you read this.
It started out innocently enough. I put a song by Faith Hill on my "Songs for HIM" mix (the song was, "There is Coming a Day." Really powerful). And then I started to listen to more Faith Hill.
And then that somehow snowballed into me frequently listening to Dixie Chicks, Lady Antebellum (which is not so bad), Tim McGraw, Randy Montana, Keith Urban, and even (dare I even mention? I must) Shania Twain.
There's just something so . . . American. . . about country music. Hip-hop is duplicated in Nigeria; rock is all over; alternative, folk, jazz - they are all common elsewhere. But not country music. Country music has such great connotations of America and open sky and rolling fields and summer barbecues, that I'm really craving that a lot right now.
Right about now you may be wondering how long you have to keep up this now shambles of a friendship with me, but I want you to know - I still enjoy just about every other genre of music. I can hide my newfound respect for country music while around you.