All or nothing at all�

There was a hot time in old Bulwer this afternoon. Janice and David held their second annual �folk festival� in their orchard. I went last year with my buddy Chris from writing group and joined the former two above-mentioned people on stage for a few traditional numbers. But this year Hubby and I prepared several jazz standards which we performed on the borrowed hay wagon to a very attentive and appreciative audience. We were pretty good, a little under-rehearsed, but still much better than anything else we heard this afternoon.

Until we actually got up to play, Hubby was bored to tears. Folk music is not his thing, and this was pretty bad. I used to be a folkie, that was my thing, performing on hoot nights at Change of Pace Caf�, the Village Green, that kind of thing. I kind of got out of it when I started really concentrating on the classical singing, but I never felt that you could take the coffee house out of the diva. Anyway, I have become a lot more critical over the years, and I now cringe at the poor singing and boring accompaniments like the ones I witnessed this afternoon. So yeah, I can fully understand Hubby being bored. I probably would have been too, but I think I have a greater tolerance for that stuff.

Anyway, there was also food to eat, and Janice had made a punch of her rhubard juice and white wine, which I drank much too quickly at the beginning, not realizing it was spiked. I brought baguettes and cheeses and a bottle of red wine, which I left for others to drink, not really wanting any myself. It was a good afternoon, in spite of the heat and the flies and the bad music. It�s always nice being a star, even if it�s shortlived.

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