When Life Gives You Lemons

So I went to see Nickel Creek last night at stuffy McCaw Hall. Who woulda thunk Seattleites would be so freakin' crazy about bluegrass? NC was here at Marymoor just this past summer, packed ampitheatre, and last night was packed as well, although the crowd seemed more reserved - perhaps the venue?

A person would be hard-pressed to find a group of musicians who can move as much as these guys while playing their respective instruments - their entire bodies are in constant motion. And you cannot keep your own body still.

And the speed at which their fingers move is amazing! The set includes the ever-present fiddle, mandolin, guitar and cello, with a banjo, harmonica, piano and a tap dancer thrown in for the hellofit. If you are under the impression that bluegrass is snoozeville, think again - you simply cannot follow their hand movements, they are that fast.

And, to top it off, some nutty fool thought she could start the wave...

But, the point of today's blog is not to talk about the concert (Nickel Creek, by the way, may be going on hiatus; that isn't confirmed, but suspected - their souvenir t-shirts said, "Nickel Creek Farewell For Now Tour," which seems foreboding). Rather, it's to talk about the drink I had before the concert.

I ordered a Lemon Drop. I got half a Lemon Drop. Normal sized martini glass, half full.

Ok, here's the thing - I don't mind a half-full glass, as long as I've drunk it down to being half full. That's not a bad place to be! But, when I'm paying 8 clams for a fru-fru drink, I want as much fru-fru as possible, yaknowwhatImean?

And I like the way I feel halfway down the glass! A little zoned, not completely inebriated, but still able to walk a somewhat straight line to my seat in Row M.

And there I was, already halfway down the glass without ever taking a sip! I turned to my daughter (who was drinking half a B52 - does that make it a B26?) and said, "Hm, strange, I don't feel tipsy yet..."