Hi, Aunt Margie!...uh, what?
So last night was Concord's Christmas in August at Todo Santos Plaza: fake snow for the kids, photos with Santa -- yes, in August -- and a free performance by Golden Bough, aka, 'Aunt Margie and Uncle Paul'. Since they were playing, for free, in the same park as our Thursday night Farmer's Market, it seemed only polite to show up; I conferred with Kate and Cat, and they agreed to shift our weekly girly dinner to 'picnic in the park' status, for purposes of hearing live outdoor Celtic music. I love having flexible friends.
Because they were both coming from Berkeley via car, while I was taking the conveniently traffic-free BART, I arrived before they did, and went wending through the pre-concert crowd, looking for my Aunt and Uncle. I found them over by the Concord Civic Centre table, setting up their merchandise (largely by throwing it onto the table in the haphazard manner of people who don't really ever have to set up their own merchandise). Hugging and exclamations followed. All good, all expected. And then, well...
It turned out that their normal sales guy was home sick. And that someone who they'd never met before (and hence wouldn't recognize) was supposed to be stunt-sales for them. And she wasn't there yet. And I was. And I'm family.
Wanna guess who suddenly found herself standing behind the merchandise table?
Golly, you're good guessers.
After about ten minutes of rearranging everything on the table, I had it set to my satisfaction, and bent my mind to the task of selling things. This was nicely distracting, and kept me occupied until Kate and Cat arrived, looking somehow sublimely unsurprised by my position. Put me near a merchandise table, find me working it. It's really that simple. (I miss the days when I was regularly working an Annwn show, a Heather Alexander show, and an Avalon Rising show, every month. Merchandise tables are love.)
Being kind and loving souls, Kate and Cat promptly established a rota with me; they took the table while I ran for heirloom tomatoes from my favourite vendor (yum), Kate and I took the table while Cat went for food, Cat and I took the table while Kate went off to smoke. My mother and stepfather showed up, with their dogs in town. Mom's new puppy is a St. Bernard/Mastiff cross, and is going to be enormous.
The band came back to check on us during intermission, but otherwise left us alone to sell things, which was deeply comic, in its own 'um, were you gonna even ask what we're selling?' sort of a way. After the show, we packed things up, and I all but hog-tied my aunt for final hugs and farewells. She bought us flowers as a thank-you, which was both sweet and surreal, and we fled into the night.
Ah, family. They bring the bizarre. But the music was awesome.
Because they were both coming from Berkeley via car, while I was taking the conveniently traffic-free BART, I arrived before they did, and went wending through the pre-concert crowd, looking for my Aunt and Uncle. I found them over by the Concord Civic Centre table, setting up their merchandise (largely by throwing it onto the table in the haphazard manner of people who don't really ever have to set up their own merchandise). Hugging and exclamations followed. All good, all expected. And then, well...
It turned out that their normal sales guy was home sick. And that someone who they'd never met before (and hence wouldn't recognize) was supposed to be stunt-sales for them. And she wasn't there yet. And I was. And I'm family.
Wanna guess who suddenly found herself standing behind the merchandise table?
Golly, you're good guessers.
After about ten minutes of rearranging everything on the table, I had it set to my satisfaction, and bent my mind to the task of selling things. This was nicely distracting, and kept me occupied until Kate and Cat arrived, looking somehow sublimely unsurprised by my position. Put me near a merchandise table, find me working it. It's really that simple. (I miss the days when I was regularly working an Annwn show, a Heather Alexander show, and an Avalon Rising show, every month. Merchandise tables are love.)
Being kind and loving souls, Kate and Cat promptly established a rota with me; they took the table while I ran for heirloom tomatoes from my favourite vendor (yum), Kate and I took the table while Cat went for food, Cat and I took the table while Kate went off to smoke. My mother and stepfather showed up, with their dogs in town. Mom's new puppy is a St. Bernard/Mastiff cross, and is going to be enormous.
The band came back to check on us during intermission, but otherwise left us alone to sell things, which was deeply comic, in its own 'um, were you gonna even ask what we're selling?' sort of a way. After the show, we packed things up, and I all but hog-tied my aunt for final hugs and farewells. She bought us flowers as a thank-you, which was both sweet and surreal, and we fled into the night.
Ah, family. They bring the bizarre. But the music was awesome.