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MUSIC FRIDAY in the city. "Let's go!" I talked my Yard Man into stopping his yard work, which he'd been busily pursuing for several hours, hauling in loads of mulch, wielding the weed-whacker and the leaf-blower, saving only a skimpy pile of labor with the labor-saving devices. It was such a frabjous, fantabulous, fit-to-be-labeled PERFECT evening, it didn't take a lot of wheedling to persuade the man to drop his tools!



Judging by his chortling when we'd gotten to the city and strolled around and come upon one musical offering after another, he was more than fine with the decision. Then we came upon a tiny first-cousin once-removed (child of a first cousin, that would be, Reader Dear!) who did not seem removed at all, but gave us a sweet come-close smile and waved. "Exactly a year ago right now," said her dad,"it was almost time to start pushing her out!"
"Wow," we responded, " Happy Very First Birthday, Scout!")



The evening was rife with the kind of j'oie d' vivre that only fine weather and fine food and fine music can produce. And since the hour was getting late and we hadn't enjoyed the edible part of that trio of delights, we chose to cap off our evening with drinks and a blackberry tart and a dark chocolate something-or-other eaten under the stars.



And we had a word with the chef, who waxed enthusiastic over this great city (in which he's been serving great food, Reader Dear, for lo, these many years), and the old, old buildings surrounding us. "Just look at this beautiful view from right here!" he exclaimed, gesturing toward the roof lines and the lovely arches and finials and moldings. "And to think, this view has existed just like this for over one hundred years!"



Ah, it was a fine evening, Music Friday in the city.
My Yard Man and I, we both highly recommend it.
(If I could put that endorsement to music, Reader Dear, and serve it up with a margarita and cheesecake, you know I would!)
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