One more Heart explosion.

Right. When I was courting the wife, I had a few tricks up my sleeve. One of them was delivering her a letter that was, in its entirety, the lyrics to "Alone" by Heart. I arranged them grammatically so that they made sense, and I formatted it like a real letter. But Cat didn't know Heart at the time. She just thought she was getting a letter with these sentiments:

I hear the ticking of the clock
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark
I wonder where you are tonight
No answer on the telephone
And the night goes by so very slow
Oh I hope that it won't end though
Alone
Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone
you don't know how long i have wanted
to touch your lips and hold you tight
You don't know how long I have waited
and I was going to tell you tonight
But the secret is still my own
and my love for you is still unknown
Alone
Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone

Needless to say, revealing that this was a song was less awesome than Cat continuing to believe that I was a stalker. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how the race was won.

PS: I did the same thing a few weeks later with the lyrics to "Glory of Love" by Peter Cetera. But she knew that one.

Every single second of the night.

I know I said I'd leave it at two things with the video for "These Dreams," but we've just watched it again... and I need to make a few things clear.

The drummer in that video, who makes his triumphant entrance after the plaster horse head, knew he was taking you on a ride. Do you see those moves? That spin move? The pointing at you? I love him. What is he wearing? I love him.

But the real twist in this viewing was Cat noticing that the disembodied hands are coming out of grates in the floor. Why are they down there? What's going on here? I know that they love Heart -- I love Heart, and I would definitely reach up through a grate to touch Ann Wilson, even now, when she's 57 and post gastric surgery of some kind -- but I still feel like the audience might have been captured and locked up. Which is fantastic.