Dance Like You Mean It

There's this thing called the Seattle Head Nod. Or so I've heard it called. Go to a live rock show, and people don't dance. They nod. Heads bobbing in time to the music. Heck, that means you're into it. Everyone else is standing stock still, beer in hand, or hanging out in the back, catching up with friends.

Because, you know, you don't want to get too carried away. Except That Guy in front, dancing like a maniac, a lone hip shaker in a crowd that barely sways to the beat. But who wants to be That Guy?

Secretly: everyone wants to be That Guy. Well, maybe not everyone, but come on, he's having fun. And last night, at the Sunset Tavern, there were a lot of folks who decided to let their hair down and just have fun.

It was the album release party for the Tripwires, and no doubt the fact that these guys have been around for, oh, a couple decades, playing in bands ranging from the Screaming Trees to the Model Rockets, played a part in the festive atmosphere. The small crowd seemed filled with many who knew the band, and connections were tight between the Tripwires and their opening acts, Small Change and Llama. During the first two sets, Liz and I were happily head bobbing to the music, but when the Tripwires came on stage, everyone let loose.

People shimmied and swayed, twisted and turned. Up on stage, the band members sweated it out in sports coats, jumping and grinning and playing to the crowd. As people squeezed by to get to the restroom, I more than once felt someone's hands lightly at my waist - not in an obtrusive way, mind you. These were just people passing through, and rather than elbow their way by or try to skirt around us with as little contact as possible, they weren't afraid of a little touching out of consideration. It was, well, friendly. And like little kids dancing out of sheer youthful joy, we just felt happy to be there.

After all, there's no shame in being that lone dancer when you have a whole crowd backing you up. And dancing to the Tripwires beats doing the Seattle Head Nod any day of the week.

In the Pink

On Labor Day weekend it appeared that fall had arrived with a vengeance. No sooner had we noticed that the leaves were beginning to turn a suspicious shade of yellow than we were suddenly whipped by angry winds and accosted by weather that went from party sunny to completely rainy in 60 seconds. Thankfully, this weekend summer came back for a final showing, which worked perfectly for us, as last night was the long-awaited Pink Martini show at Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery.

The Chateau does a concert series every summer, although I'd never been before. After encountering the stop and go single lane traffic jam to get to the event and carrying our cooler from where we parked half a mile down the road (at least we managed to avoid the $10 parking lots), I began to see the wisdom in avoiding the scene. After spending fifteen minutes roaming among the picnickers spread out across the grass, searching for our friends Heather and Satoshi, I questioned further the fact that I had left our cell phone in the car... now half a mile away.

But finally Heather spotted me and flagged me down, and the four of us, including Michael, set up our picnic far from the stage, but with plenty of room to take off our shoes and wiggle our toes. Out came antipasto pasta salad, pesto foccacia, deviled eggs, and Jones soda, with almond cookies and Lu biscuits for dessert. This being a winery, I was happy to take advantage of a bottle of red for $13, an unheard of price at any other local events or restaurants, which I found went especially well with Lu biscuits. Who knew?

As for the music, when China Forbes' voice rang out across the amphitheater clear and pure, Michael simply turned to me and said, "They're good!"

Well, yeah. That's why we came, after all. This being Michael's first live Pink Martini show, I guess he didn't realize the caliber of musicianship he was in for. The band played through old songs and new, and by the final song, Brazil, many in the audience were up and dancing. I was, too. And the fact that we were able to drive home from our parking spot and avoid all the bad traffic? That was just icing on the cake.

New Tricks

Y'all are gonna be so proud - I went to another birthday party in Tacoma Saturday night. And this time - drum roll, please - I actually read the invitation in its entirety. And found out exactly where the party was BEFORE driving down. And even took the cell phone just in case. See, in a mere two weeks time, I have stretched and grown beyond my former limitations. And if you are reading at this point and haven't the faintest idea what I'm talking about, just go back to the post titled "Where's the Party" from January 11th, and you'll know. Oh yes, you'll know.

This time the party was for my dear friend Jackie who should be properly embarrassed when I announce to the world (because there are so many of you out there reading this blog, I'm sure) that she has turned 30! Woohoo! We celebrated by taking in a dance performance that was a little more avant garde than expected (although, to be honest, it was about what I had expected, given the synopsis, and I rather enjoyed it, except for the poor visibility from our seats) and followed that up with pizza and drinks at The Rock. I was reminded of how much I like Tacoma; it always feels like such a close-knit community when compared with Seattle.

And today, I am pleased to report, I made yet another leap forward in rational behavior and made pasta using a pasta machine. Yes, this goes waaay back to my post from September 11th ("Pasta, Basta!"), wherein I describe the pitfalls of attempting to make ravioli by rolling the pasta dough by hand. It was not a pretty sight. But tonight's tortellini were gorgeous! Lewissa came over with her pasta roller (I have yet to get my own, but am now convinced that I absolutely need one) and together we created a fabulous meal of the aforementioned tortellini, filled with lemon juice, ricotta, Parmesan, and pecorino, topped with browned butter and sage, a polenta crusted chicken with a balsamic reduction and capers, broccoli rabe with seasoned oil, rosemary bread, and, of course, a nice Italian red wine.

The only thing regretful was the fact while Lewissa, Michael, and I were all exclaiming rapturously over the tortellini (isn't it nice to surround yourself with people who truly enjoy food?), Amy V was left with her plain capellini. Due to an egg allergy, the tortellini were off limits, but she did get to mix a little of the extra filling in with her noodles, hopefully to good effect.

As for me, I have leftover homemade pasta in the fridge, and believe me, this time I'm not afraid to use it.