It happens to everybody, I know. I just don't like it when it happens to me in such a silly way.

We're a musical family and we are insanely supportive of each other. My son is a rock star in the Bay area and he has a show and release party this weekend. Lots of new songs and a whole other set waiting on mastering for their release. Our musical family includes close friends who also write, perform and release new music. This is a special show for some of them as well. Supporting bands are releasing CDs or planning exciting things we will be a part of.

The show  is also on St Patrick's Day, a very fun holiday in our partially Irish, very mixed-up heritage. Plans were made for corned beef and all the fixins and we were finding green things to wear to the show. We also like to drink (responsibly) and the show is at a fun bar and we purchased a few special bottles of wine and fancy cheeses for the weekend's evenings together. We enjoy flavors but the time we are together around food is special for the conversations alone. Nothing off limits; honest, intelligent debate and hilarious snark on every topic imaginable. Tom is also a stand-up comic and can leave my dear wife in a puddle of tears as she runs out of air laughing and peeing a little. We also made arrangements for oxygen tanks to be delivered to the room so we don't kill Wakitu with laughter. (Though she has expressed a willingness to go that way, we'd like her to hang around a little longer.)

So here we are, ready and raring to go and both of us are feeling old. We still need a little time to recover. Although driving the Jag is fun - I really love it - driving for 6 hours with one eye and a migraine is not as much fun as it sounds. We're a pair, my sweetie and I, and Wakitu is in the midst of a bout of bronchitis and the treatment is as bad as the ailment. Out of breath, riding in the Jaguar, radio cranking Tom's songs as loud as they go, woo-hooing out of the moon roof with her top off... this may not be the best idea for a responsible adult right now.

We made the very adult, responsible decision to stay home. Now I feel guilty and old.

I feel like I should go and party all weekend and celebrate my family and hug necks and kiss faces of friends I haven't seen in months. I feel old. I'm a guitar player and well used to staying up late and making poor decisions. I'd probably get to jam with everybody at the after-party. My drink-buying bar tab would have delighted the venue owner. As it stands now, I'll be home watching a live feed, eating corned beef and clinking with Wakitu while we heal up for our next actual adventure. Perhaps a weekend in SF at an airbnb selling antiques out of the trunk of the Jag... we'll see. First we gotta build a treehouse.

I feel like we did the right thing... more or less.

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