This year, with the addition of flower beds that were actually weeded, and some lovely lighting that the Farmboy designed and put in place, our place was looking rather more beautiful than usual. We did a trial run the night before, lighting all of the tiki torches and candle lanterns and string lights. I found it a little difficult to get to sleep with all of the excitement in the air...
The morning of... when I put on my custom shirt for the first time, I almost squealed with delight. This logo came to me in the middle of winter, while stirring a pot of stew. It started as a pencil sketch, which was then turned into perfectly formed digital art by a friend, who happens to be a very talented graphic designer (check his web site out here). Somehow things feel much more official-like when there's a graphic tee involved.
We added a portable toilet this year, to help keep traffic in the house at a minimum. I took the liberty of adding my own sign (please forgive me American Sani-Can, but I like my signs better than yours).
My growing collection of thrifted dishes and linens got their yearly airing (still not going with the paper products, my dear Farmboy), the grills were kept smoking and sizzling, with the generous help of good friends, and the potluck table was nearly sway-backed with yummy food brought from homes all over the Portland area.
With a combination of people from the Farmboy's work, our local community, church, members from both sides of our family, and even two brave souls that drove all the way from Las Vegas and camped for a few nights on our property, it was fun to see people that we didn't know knew each other have a mini-reunion right there in our front yard. I really never got to settle down for very long, but the murmur of voices was steady, with kids flitting about, running around in a big gang, and there was so much laughter.
Our crowd was a bit more subdued than last year during the musical performances (a little older? a little less alcohol? weather a bit too hot?), so I'm determined to specially choose some people to come next year that will actually get up and do some dancing. I never realized just how much a performer feeds off of the response of the audience, and I certainly felt the reserved nature of this group. Not that they didn't enjoy themselves; I could see plenty of smiles and feet tapping going on, with a few timely call-outs from certain people that brought laughter and smiles.
My band, The Hipocryts worked super hard in the months and weeks leading up to this event, adding new songs and making the old set better. My bandmates even convinced me to sing a solo, which is never my favorite thing to do; I much prefer adding harmonies. But I did it. And I'm actually glad; a person should never get too old to try new things.
When it came time to get up there though, our inexperience with performing really showed. Why oh why can't we sound as good in front of people as we do when we're practicing? The crowd was very kind and complimented us on our improvement over last year, which I guess is a good thing. Somehow I felt that maybe they were just being nice. But that's the perfectionist in me speaking, I'm sure. We're going to try to find some local open mic nights to test some audiences that don't know us personally. That ought to be a good indicator of our likability and should also help us to smooth out some of the rough edges.
We did get a thumbs up from the main musician, Chris Stewart. And I have proof right here. So we must have done something right.
I caught up with one of my young nephews after we finished and asked him if he liked our songs. He is the one that is so painfully shy and reserved that he rarely does more than grunt to people that aren't in his immediate family circle. Per usual, I received a grunt and a shrug. But later, my little brother (his Dad) told me that the same little guy said at one point during our performance that he couldn't believe his older brother had gone to play and was "missing out on all of this... this... this... greatness!". And if that was the only compliment I received all evening, it would be enough.
Chris Stewart continues to improve his musical style and set. This guy practically oozes music. Two years ago, it was just him and one guitar. Last year he added a second guitar and had a friend play some hand drums on a few songs. This year? He sat on a cajon (drum box), which he played with a foot pedal while also picking his guitar and singing and jingling a tambourine with the other foot. The iconic one-man-band. And it was good.
My parents came again this year (many of the photos here were taken by my Dad), and they said they really enjoyed it, all except for a few songs (yes, there may have been some swearing and/or questionable content involved in said songs). I think that's a pretty good testimony of the range of audience this guy can entertain.
My Mama and me.
I'm sad for it to be over for another year. Wondering if people will want to come back again next year. Already planning ways to tweak the event to make it better, more fun, more inviting than ever before. Counting down to 2018. Let me know if you want to come!
The day after...
One family of good friends that live in the city camped out next to the couple from Las Vegas (we do live in a quite lovely place, so camping on our property was bound to happen at some point). They shared a morning cup of coffee with us before heading home. This scene made me happy. Three guys that collapsed in their Twistapalooza shirts the night before.
And perhaps my favorite bit of remnant that I cleaned up the day after... my band's set... taped to the top of a bar stool.
