Rock-N-Roll and Fiesta de Bebe

Before it gets gobbled up by Halloween, let me tell you about what I did this past weekend.

On Friday, my brother Daniel drove up from Boone, and we attended our friend Matt's live show at the MarVell Event Center as part of Troika Music Festival. Matt's band Vedere Rosso played from 7:45-8:15 PM, and what they lacked in sound-system quality, they made up for in stage presence and catchy lyrics. And intensity. Matt's parents were there, and his mom commented on how intense Matt was playing the drums. Watching Matt bang his drums, I couldn't help but remember the one and only song I ever banged a full-on drum set to and that is "You Make(a) My Dreams Come True" by Hall and Oates, circa 1982. My dad's a drummer, and when I was 10, he taught me how to play drums to that song. Seriously. Bass drum with my right foot, tom tom with my left hand, high hat with my right hand. Maybe a cymbal here and there. Vedere Rosso is always fun to watch, as is most live music with three chicks and a guy on drums.

After VR, we stayed for a set by a band called The Heist & The Accomplice, from Columbia, SC.
The sound system just didn't work so I can't really say whether they were good or not. I can say they were good and loud.

A trip to the Arby's drive through and a bag of curly fries later, Matt, Shawna, Dan'l and I went to a venue called 305 South to catch a headlining band, The Mountain Goats. The Mountain Goats were a little too "emo" for what we were all in the mood for, but I have to say, 305 was kind of a neat venue. It's like half indoors, half outdoors, with a warehouse feel to it, but I tell ya, people were out in droves to see this band. There were hundreds of hipsters, and it was like, "Who are all of you people and where did you come from?" I just don't get out much anymore, and it just didn't feel like we were in Durham.

I told my party that I typically turn into a pumpkin at midnight, so I left at 11:20 PM to make it back home to Chapel Hill before the stroke of midnight. (I'm practicing to be Cinderella again this year for Halloween. Ladies: you can wear periwinkle-blue bridesmaids dresses again, you can!)

So, then Saturday evening, I found myself at a Baby Shower for Marcela, Johnny's former teacher at SFFA. All I was told in advance was, "This isn't going to be your typical American babyshower." It wasn't. There were lots of women ooh-ing and ahh-ing at each present that was opened (ok, that part was the same), but there were also lots of kids, lots of men, and lots of beer around. There wasn't lots of English spoken, however. In fact, I was one of four adults in a group of about 30 who was not a native Spanish speaker. I held my own pretty well during all of the festive games, and almost lost track of the fact that I hadn't laid eyes on my children in over 45 minutes straight. When I made it back to the "kid" room and asked, "Donde esta Johnny y Gracita?" I was answered with, "We speak English, too." Ok. "Where is Johnny and Grace?" The dark-haired boy replied, "No se." Well, I tried. When in Rome, you know.

I was honored to be included in what was clearly a close-friends-and-family affair, and I am all the more confident that the Cooley family's collective Spanish-speaking skills will serve us well if and when David and I take the kids to a Spanish-speaking country for an extended stay in the next few years.