Three years ago, we were just getting used to the news that we were pregnant and driving to Fredricksburg to hang with good friends from CO and their family. Our CO friends were also pregnant, and so we had lots to talk about then–and ever since then, although we haven’t seen them as much as we’d like.
One of the reasons for that is that we live across the country from each other. Another reason is that they’ve had a second girl since then, which complicates travel. Had they been traveling this year, the 12 feet or so of snow they’ve gotten this month in their corner of CO might have been another complication, as the 35-mile an hour winds have been for us here.
Despite the wind chill here, which is well below buckass cold and approaching boogerfreezing cold, we trekked over one town to the first night celebration that featured both Rocknoceros and Mr. Skip. After the Rocknoceros show, which was thankfully moved indoors due to the face biting cold, we chatted for awhile with Williebob and Coach Cotton about hats, music, and kids going to school. Oh, and some of us played a vigorous game of chase too.
Even though Williebob and Coach Cotton are regular parents just like us–except all of their musical wonderfulness, of course–Mama admitted that she was a bit star struck after talking to them. That’s likely because she spends all her days with a boy who idolizes them, copies them, and asks to hear every song they’ve ever recorded. The very same boy who, when he meets Rocknoceros, clams up.
Tonight he did talk a little with Williebob, but mostly he just listened as we talked. That matches what he does when they play, which is to sit almost perfectly still and take in the whole show while all the other kids run around, dance, and jump up and down. If you didn’t know better, you might think that he wasn’t engaged in the show at all, but when he comes home and repeats what they say and sing verbatim, you see that he was totally engaged in the show to the point that he couldn’t think of anything else, like dancing.
And tonight he may well have overloaded, since right after Rocknoceros was over, we went next door for a full set from Mr. Skip, accompanied by a New Year’s feast of french fries, crackers, Craisins and granola bar. As we walked away from that gig to the car, we passed a bluegrass band playing in another venue, which, of course, 3B wanted to go see. Guitars, banjos, mandolins, drums, what more could a boy want?
We told him that they were going to bed just like we were, so he couldn’t see them, but that we’d look for some bluegrass shows around that we could go see. All the way to the car he was asking “want to see some green grass.” When we were done laughing about that, we said that it was bluegrass. “Where is the bluegrass?” I told him that it mostly grows in Kentucky, a statement based on absolutely no facts whatsoever, but I wasn’t going to stop in the boogerfreezing wind and Google up bluegrass, so my supposition will just have to do for now.
As soon as we got in the car, we cranked up the Leftover Salmon and String Cheese Incident for 3B. Some of their tracks that we have are even legitimate bluegrass tunes, plus there’s the bonus that one of them is named after one of 3B’s favorite snacks. No, I didn’t even attempt to explain Leftover Salmon’s name to the little vegetarian.
By the time we got home, the car was finally warm, 3B didn’t want us to shut off the Polyethnic Cajun Slamgrass, and it was well past bedtime. We did manage to lure 3B into bed by showing him pictures of Uncle Brother #2’s broken axle…it’s too long a story to go into here, but 3B’s been fascinated by axles for a few weeks now. And so now, rather than driving deeper into Dixie as we did three years ago, I’m sitting on the couch with Barky curled up at my feet as 3B and Mama slumber their way into the new year.
I’ll probably join them before 2009 arrives, which means that even though the circumstances are different, we’re spending this new year much as we did three years ago–warm, surrounded by family, with many happy memories to talk about.