I woke up Saturday morning with a slight cold, that made its case for being more than just a slight cold as soon as I got out of bed.  Dread filled me, as I had a wedding I needed to attend, and make merry, with my girlfriend at 3.  Sure enough, though slightly bolstered by cold medicine, I was feeling pretty rough by the time the wedding got underway (which wasn't until 4)  But this isn't a "Mark feeling sick at a wedding" story.  Oh, no.  One of Sondra's wonderful friends (of which many were in attendance) informed me that red wine was actively keeping her cold at bay, and one and a half glasses (very quickly) later, I literally jolted from staring wistfully at the band, to ready to rock.  Apparently alcohol is the cure to the common cold. 

As to why I was staring wistfully at a band comprised of middle-aged men, it had been suggested that I bring my mandolin out there.  I'd talked to the band, and they were totally willing to let me jam, but prior to the wine, I had nothing to give but sniffles and wist.  So after my recovery, and the subsequent tossing my girlfriend around on the floor for a few songs, the band announces they're going to do a little bluegrass tune, and that there were rumors of a mando player in the house. 

I don't remember when I've had that much fun. 

We jumped from Blackberry Blossom to Friend of the Devil, and then we did some Stevie Ray Vaughn, a blues piece or two, an amazing swingy rockabilly tune called "Grandma Plays the Numbers" and Foxy Lady.  That's right, I jammed out to Hendrix on the electric mando.  (To be fair, I was also standing next to the electric fiddle player.)  Several other musicians got to sit in with those guys, and I could see the same joy on their faces.  Playing music is a beautiful thing, especially when the sound coming out is that good. All in all, the night was great.  Playing (and holding my own) with really excellent musicians, swinging Sondra around every which way, and just being with a really great crowd was fantastic.   Icing on the cake (the really good home-made gourmet icing, mind you) was being asked to play on a folk CD Sondra's boss (a singer-songwriter guy) is recording this week.  All right, so that's probably more than just icing.  It's very likely that I was indeed ecstatic, and told everyone I ran into for the rest of the evening.  (I even called my parents.)

Peace
~Mark

Since the last entry I made was about my bike tire, I figure it's only fair to start off by saying that it's finally fixed.  (You all can breathe a collective sigh of relief.)  It was actually one of my poker buddies who volunteered to repair it, insisting that I bring no tools, parts or compensation... just the wheel.  Sure enough, last night at poker he whipped out a tire tube, an air pump, and I'm not sure what else, and fixed it on the spot, during hands he had folded.  Walking to the poker game, then getting a taxi home, then walking the 2-ish miles to work, all with bike tire in tow was kind of fun.  Winning the $175 that precipitated my cab ride home (as opposed to a 2-and-a-half mile-ish walk in the not nicest parts of DC, flush with cash) was fun indeed.

I learned a new Spanish phrase today!!!:
"Se me puncho mi llanta"
(Say it with me kids: Say May Poon-CHO me YON-tah.)
Which means: "I punctured my tire."  I was helped out with this Spanish tidbit by a student at the school I work at.  Soaked to the skin, in the pouring rain, after lamenting with me the suckage that is a punctured tire, the guy thought to ask me if I knew how to say it in Spanish.  Believe it or not, getting that little Spanish lesson went a long way towards brightening my mood.  Thank you, guy with the bike with all the bright pink and blue and green things 14 year old girls put on their bike tires to make that tinkly sound... thank you.  (And sorry for outing you about your bike.  That probably wasn't cool.)

"I am in love with all things Latin..."

I just got back from the Latin American Heritage Celebration put on by the staff and students (mostly students) at the adult ESL and Vocational school I work for.  It was amazing.  I want to learn to play tangos w/either the mando or the fiddle, and I really want to get back into Latin dancing.  ("back" is perhaps too strong a term... I took a semester and a half of it in college.)  All of the countries represented by our student body were represented on stage individually in some way, shape or form.  Traditional dances from different countries, (from what we call "The Mexican Hat Dance" to the tango, and several you've never heard of in between), songs, and a hilarious skit extremely loosely based on Don Quixote with two of the staff members.   What absolutely blows my mind is how much of a shared identity there is in being "Latin."  Salvadorenos, Mexicanos, Venezolanos... all have rich cultural heritages, and all celebrate them... but I get this amazing sense of the shared histories, the shared cultural elements being something that is embraced by the Latino community at large.  I love it.

Thanks to all whose prayers and thoughts went out for me and my family.  Operation: Michigan was a success, in as much as it could have been.  The funeral was rough, but getting together back at Grandma's place was a much-needed balm for all present.  My ginormous family doesn't get together all that often... and it wasn't long before we were all just enjoying being together, the way we always do when we're together. 

Highlights of the trip:

Getting to ride on the back of my uncle's motorcycle (at speeds upwards of 90mph).  He said: "hop on, I'll take you around the block."  He took me to the next town.  Later, I asked him if he made a habit of accelerating through the gears that fast.  He laughed at me as he replied: "Sometimes, but I just liked making you giggle."  So apparently motorcycles at high speeds make me giggle like a schoolgirl.  And I really really want one.  (A Bike, not a schoolgirl.) 

Playing poker for piles of dollar-store candy with some of my cousins

Disc-golfing with a couple of my cousins

Just being together

Lowlight:

6 hours of the 9 hour car trip back had my cousin Angie and I listening to the same country music mix CD.  Today's story problem: if you're in a car traveling between 70 and 80 mph for 6 hours, how many times can you listen to "Dust on the Bottle" before it gets really, really old.  (surprise: it's more than you'd think!)

I could write more lowlights, but I'm not going to.  Some of those stories just take too long to tell here, and are just better told in person.  (for the curious, ask me about the shoe incident).  Grief sucks, but it's a part of life, and it's natural.  It's not a lowlight, it just happens.  6 hours of the same CD = "not natural."

peace, I'm off to Latin American Heritage Festival
and I'm late

~Mark