ArtAwake

What a fun, sun-filled weekend. Hammock. Basketball. A little light cleaning.

Late Saturday afternoon, my mom, kids and I went to ArtAwake: an art/performance art gathering in a beautiful, vacant, old bank downtown. We went to see the opening band, 441, which is a bunch of 13 year old boys (i.e., a girlfriend's son and friends) who played rock hits like Led Zeppelin along with their own tunes that I preferred. Mad talent for middle school boys. There was food and wine. Interactive spaces for music and photography. People dressed in white who you could paint. (My kids declined; they're much too cool for that.) All-in-all, it was a nice diversion from the everyday tasks of life.

Afterward, we got delicious, pulled pork sandwiches at Sticky Lips then the kids had a sleepover at Grannie's while I went to see the hubby's band at Abilene. So. Much. Fun. There were heaps of bands playing elsewhere that night so the crowd was pretty light but we had a blast -- especially later when we had the dance floor to ourselves. My torn ligament was healing nicely so I tried to cement my feet to the floor and awkwardly dance in place; however, that gave way as the more fun songs were played later in the evening. Dancing without moving your feet is difficult and not so much fun, I've discovered.

It was pretty hot in the bar so we kept escaping to the patio out back to cool off. It was either that or take our shirts off -- which prompted us to ask ourselves if we had nice enough bras on to bare it all. (No, thankfully. And the ringleader of such activities had just left early so we weren't going to take up the reins in her absence.)

As a result, we started reminiscing/laughing about a night out maybe <20 years ago when a bunch of us went bowling at Clover Lanes. As the stakes got higher throughout the night, one thing led to another, and we were challenging each for extra points with daring feats of stupidity (e.g., five points if you take your shirt off). The night later became dubbed "bra bowling" as the men's Christian league beside us left quickly and the young man who was using the bowling lane equivalent of the zamboni to clean/buff the lanes before closing, fell over his equipment. Serves him right for staring at us and walking backward at the same time. D'oh!

I need to walk into town and hit Embrasse-Moi in case the occasion presents itself again soon. Must look my best.