Who's Counting? Oh, right. I AM.

I would hereby like to amend my previously-stated definition of U2 week. There are, in fact, TWO U2 weeks in a year. (there would be multiple U2 weeks, but I have a mortgage and a recently acquired car payment.)

The first U2 week is the one in which they release a new album and you can find them everywhere without even trying. Huzzah, U2 week!

The second U2 week is the week leading up to the day on which I POSSESS TICKETS TO SEE THEM. (MAD props to my ticket connection--you know who you are.)

I count down the days, and eventually, the hours. I play U2, and only U2, in heavy rotation. (It's been in moderately heavy rotation for the last six weeks, and the recently acquired car has now been temporarily christened Bonomobile.) I conjure wildly preposterous scenarios in which I meet him, or get pulled up on stage, or sing with him, or bask in his serenades to me, or all of the above. (None of these Utopian hallucinations depict me simply enjoying the show. That's a foregone conclusion.)

I behave, in short, like the 16-year-old I was when I first saw them. (minus the big hair, parachute pants, and Choose Life t-shirt.) There are a few distinct differences between 16-year-old hero-worship, and that of a [omitted to avoid undue stress to someone whose birthday is rapidly approaching]-year-old. For one, I've eliminated the whole "I will totally meet Bono soon and he'll fall madly in love with me and we'll sing duets together and I will bake APPLE PIES all the time for Edge, Adam and Larry and it will be, like, TOTALLY AWESOME." As I've grown a little wiser and more realistic, this seems somewhat unlikely to ever actually happen. I don't know if the guys in the band even like apple pie, and it might also seem, you know, bad form, to my husband. WITH WHOM I AM MADLY IN LOVE. In case there was any doubt.

The other thing that's a little different about being a Serious Fan in my thirties vs. my teens (and yes, I prefer Serious Fan to Crazy Stalker, if you please)...okay, I can't think of anything else. I have eliminated the desire to become Bono's muse. Otherwise, it's completely the same. (Excepting the mortgage and car payment.)

So, for the second time this year, Happy U2 Week!!! Apologies if you're at a stoplight next to me and I shatter your windows with the sheer artistry that is Adam Clayton's bass, if I interrupt you at Stop and Shop, finger in the air, because I hear 'With or Without You' on the muzak, or if you are my husband or children and are just. Damn. Sick. Of. U. 2. Which, if you are? A POX ON YOU.

Six days, and counting.

photos from www.U2.com