Hi, Life!

Cold fried chicken, that was it.

There was only one way to make this evening more perfect than it already was and that was coming home to the last of the fried chicken from my Tuesday night escapade.

Man, I love my life.

This stellar night began in Jackson Ward at the finally-renovated condo of one of my favorite music-loving couples.

They'd been dislocated last August when fire broke out on top of the Emrick Flats and now they were finally back in the neighborhood after nearly a year in the hinterlands.

The occasion was their traditional pre-First Friday soiree with the added bonus of letting their friends see their restored home.

Being the guest who lives closest, I was that annoying guest who showed up two minutes after the appointed party hour.

It was great for me because I got their undivided attention and a chance to hear about all the new acquisitions, several of which they had designed or made themselves.

Plus they have some fabulous local and regional art.

Gradually other guests arrived - a charming former Latin teacher, several artists, a photographer- and the party swung into action as if on cue.

There was even an official christening with a wine glass inadvertently knocked on to the concrete floor (the building was a Chevrolet dealer before being condos), making for a most festive moment.

I enjoyed mingling right up to the latest possible moment before leaving to go to a show.

The Love Language was playing at Strange Matter and I have been obsessed with their new album, "Ruby Red," for weeks now.

I'd seen them three years ago in Charlottesville, but it was this new body of work I couldn't wait to hear live.

Arriving at S'Matter, I found the doorman reading Greek history.

Put the book down, I directed him and, surprisingly, he did.

Honestly, I was terribly impressed he was reading a book rather than staring at his phone and told him so.

"Yea, but if I'd been on my phone, you'd have told me to put that down, too," he guessed.

Correct.

After more banter, he informed me that the bands were delayed in I-95 traffic.

Disappointed that I'd left the party early needlessly, I made the most of it by detouring to Ipanema for a glass.

The patio was hopping, but it was relatively sedate inside so I ordered a glass of crisp  and effervescent Santola Vinho Verde.

One of the servers spotted me and asked about my tiki bar experience the other night, sharing that the evening had been sheer madness for the staff.

I felt their pain, but had to rave about the Singapore Sling I'd had.

Wine break over, I returned to S'Matter just as the bands arrived and began setting up.

My favorite smart lady who loves music was there, so I had a comrade in arms to share two really good bands with.

She introduced me to Autumn, a member of The Love Language, who went off to change from her "van clothes" to her "show clothes," joking that they were remarkably similar.

First up was Eternal Summers who have morphed from a duo to a three-piece since I last saw them, giving them a much fuller sound.

Maybe I'm partial to female-fronted bands, but singer/guitarist Nicole is also a master shredder, making it tough to take your eyes off of her.

They were incredibly tight and maybe it was the delayed start, but they wasted no time with small talk, tearing through their well-crafted set like they were on a mission.

After a pit stop and some girlfriend chatter about the pleasures of a good Coke, upcoming brunch plans and her adorable ensemble, we moved to the front for The Love Language.

I'd been wishing and hoping they'd start with new material and because it was my lucky night, they did.

The energetic "Kids" was followed by the one song I had to hear (or leave disappointed), "Hi Life."

If you're happy why don't you stay right where you are?

After satisfying my greatest need, they moved on to the longing of "For Izzy" and the epic soundscape of "Golden Age."

Sigh. I was the one swooning down in front.

Singer/bandleader Stuart said that tonight's show was the second to last night of the tour so the band was well-rehearsed, if focused on making up for lost time after their delay in starting.

"Okay, there's a dance party starting after this, so we have a time limit. We're going to string together a tight little set of songs here," he said.

The man (and his four accompanying musicians, including the adorable Autumn on keyboards) could sing me the phone book and given his voice and his passionate delivery, I'd happily listen.

They didn't have time to leave the stage to be called back for an encore, but I think it was pretty clear we wanted one and they delivered pronto.

My cute friend turned and said, "Here come the hits!"

"Calm Down," the opener on "Ruby Red" was followed by a Strokes cover and finally "Lalita" off their first record.

Bingo.

Now there's a show that will be ringing in my head for weeks to come.

And aren't I lucky for it?

Show over, I had my own time limit since I was meeting a friend at the floodwall for a movie.

Premiering tonight was "An Affair with the James," a film made over 52 weeks by a local woman to show off RVA's greatest natural resource.

I arrived just in time to find the hosts of the party I'd been to earlier setting up in the front row and soon found my friend who joined us there.

You know, just four people in beach chairs sitting on the grass in front of the floodwall.

Filmmaker Ellie was inspired by going to the Banff Mountain Film Fest, which is devoted to films about exotic locations.

After attending for several years, she decided to document the most exotic place she could think of - the James River.

She talked about how, sure, Nevada is exotic but they don't have what we have.

NYC is exciting, but they can't go jump off a rope swing downtown on a Tuesday afternoon.

Going down to the river once a week, she used her iPhone to shoot footage of all kinds of river activity.

Guys catching catfish. Wetland paddling. First-time kayackers.

The Folk Fest at night, a train whistling by.

Ralph White's retirement.

The river at flood stage- 12 feet above and 14 feet above normal. Terrifying.

And yet, there were people out on the river even then.

The heron rookery. Kids rock-hopping with delight.

A stand-up paddle-boarding training class...with one guy doing headstands on his board.

The batteau festival, with shots of the girlfriend sitting next to me who's been part of the Lady Slipper batteau team for years.

The Christmas parade of lights, with all the boats lit up, an event I attended last year.

It was stunning and stirring to see the myriad ways the James can be enjoyed through the eyes of so many people, both locals and visitors.

We didn't get very far into the film before it occurred to me how glad I was that I was seeing this film during the summer.

Except for the extremists (the guy paddling when it was 31 degrees and showing off his frozen shorts), almost every scene made me eager to be at the river.

Fortunately, it hadn't been very long since I'd been there, either.

Just this past Tuesday, I'd spent several very pleasurable hours sitting on some rocks on Belle Isle, sipping Vinho Verde and watching dogs frolicing, kids swimming and the sun setting.

And when we'd left the river behind, it was to go make fried chicken under the stars.

Tonight, finishing that chicken and thinking about tonight's lively party, killer show and evocative film, I felt sure I'd hit the jackpot.

If you're happy why don't you stay right where you are?

I think I will.