Well, howdy! We just got home from a punk show at Nabolom bakery where Lala played music that the kids freaked out and danced to. And when I say kids, I mean the 20 year-olds who comprised the audience and many of the other bands. My friends were all sitting in a row, and one young gal looked at them and said (audibly) to her friend, "It's interesting to see how we'll turn out." She was lucky she said it in a nice, actually interested voice, or Kris might have had WORDS to say about POLITENESS, YOUNG LADY.
And Lala wore one of her favorite shirts which says, "I guess I was punk once." The shirt was a hyooge hit, to the point where at the end, one young queer punk came up to her and said with a voice of utter admiration, "I think I'm going to be like you in twenty years." I started laughing behind her, but she was very nice and said, "Well, I guess I was like you, twenty years ago."
I'm thirty-seven, people! (Oh! Thirty-eight on Monday.) Lala isn't much older! (See, how tactful I am? Kids, take a lesson! And get offa my lawn!) All my friends lament about how young the kids are today, but I'd never felt it until tonight. Good lord. The ENERGY. And the cuteness! The earnestness! (Okay, I'm still pretty earnest. But I can't dance like that. Maybe I never could.)
It was when Lala was in her car searching for sunscreen to give to the circus punks who played accordion and washboard that I mentioned that she was in danger of becoming the band mom. "Too late!" she cried. "Did you see how burned they were?"
But the very nice thing about playing a show in a co-op bakery? Free challah and other pastries. Also, no one was a drunk jackass.
And now, completely unrelated, a very short video of my nephew Isaac, who is learning baby sign — he knows please, and thank you, and I love you. That last is signed by crossing your arms over your chest, and he does a modified version, seen here:
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