Don't judge me, man.

I know that I look silly. I'm crouched down along the edge of a puddle-turned-pond in the Common, snapping photographs of the duck calmly wading through the shallow water, moving toward me with no concern.

I could justify the apparent goofiness if I feel the need to, you know. And here you are, gazing at me with a quizzical glance beneath your three-cornered hat.

Paul Revere, you're probably the last person with any right to pass judgement on me. And you're musket's crooked.

We exchange quick smiles as I walk away and he moves in to toss bread to the ducks. Bread stored in his musketball pouch. Ahem.

The smiles clearly translate. I won't ask if you don't.

***
Little known fact: The Milly's Tavern site falls within the New Hampshire equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. It's true. I don't know what the NH triangle is called. Or if it's a triangle, even - it could be a square, a hexagon, maybe even a trapezoid. I'm not aware of anyone investigating the crazy stuff that happens there. I don't expect to see a Time Life book about it.

(Anyone else remember that book? I had it. I was obsessed with reading about paranormal events when I was younger. I blame Robert Stack and "Unsolved Mysteries.")

It's pretty trippy, though. Time stands still. The Red Sox are always playing a game, no matter when you happen to walk in. Full pints of beer are suddenly empty, and then there's another one waiting behind it. Long sets pass by at the blink of an eye.

There's just something that happens on when you walk down those steps and through the door. I'm sure of it.

More than seven months had passed since my last trip to Manchester -- back in AT (Averi Time). And yet I fell right back into the familiarity. Our regular seats at the back of the bar were open and waiting for us. The ballgame was airing from three televisions within easy view. The sound guys were still making me wince with the soundcheck feedback.

It's just how Milly's rolls.

But it felt good to be back. It's not my favorite venue -- not even close -- but I always have a good time. Some of my favorite show experiences have transpired between Milly's walls.

And this evening managed to join the shortlist of favorite concert nights. For two reasons.

First, the music. Great performances. They didn't suck (as I deadpanned at the time). Syd and Patrick Thomas, Mieka Pauley, Chad with Dennis and Steve.

Frankly, it would take a lot of effort to screw up a lineup like that. Two people who just bring me joy; someone I've wanted to see live for quite a long time; and, well, Chad, Dennis and Steve.

The sets were goofy and brilliant. Humor and talent woven together to show just how good you have to be to make silliness really work.

Trying to describe specific moments is tricky. I was determined not to overthink this show. No analysis, just fun, which means I can't look at the moments with a critical eye now.

Besides, it was an evening that made much more sense sense if you were there. Let's say I decided to tell you about P's face when C personalized the "Freak Me" tease. It's an image that is now seared into my brain. It's hilarious. But I'll guess that you'd get puzzled -- or disturbed -- the moment I mentioned the nipple rubbing, right?

Well, it made perfect sense if you were there. Sort of. Anyway. See my point?

There were many highlights: S's smile as he sat in a chair onstage, bobbing his head as he mouthed along the words to "Metaphor." Hearing "The Way It is" when it was not being butchered by my car karaoke rendition. The delight I felt in hearing "Used To Dream" songs come alive, interspersed with older songs presented in an entirely new context.

I suppose what I can say is that there were many smiles in the audience. Mine among them, from a little spot near the soundboards. It was the first time in a (really, really, I can't even begin to tell you how) long time that I went to one of these shows and just enjoyed it.

Second, the people.

See, I tend to be pretty quiet by nature. With many people, I find it difficult to let down my guard. Can't help it. I'm shy.

But among those in the crowd were people with whom I've never felt anything but comfortable. So my inner extrovert came out and I was ready to celebrate.

Laughter, shared stories. Conversation that included earnest catching up. And hugs. A lot of hugging went on, and it felt glorious.

There was one moment, in which a small group had come together. An overall conversation was underway, and people would contribute to that while falling occasionally into smaller chats. Part of this organic assemblage, I looked around me with a smile, realizing that I adored each of those around me and there was nowhere else I'd rather be right then.

A little cheesy, I know. But hey.

Don't blame me, blame the New Hampshire Parallelogram.