Twistapalooza III

My mental planning started the day after our event ended last year. Even when I was distracted by life and work, there was always a little something brewing on the backburner. I don't exactly know why I love planning this gathering so much. It's actually pretty overwhelming in reality, when the day rolls around, with so many people that I want to connect with that I end up buzzing around on an adrenaline high all day, and get rather exhausted in the process. But I do love it dearly, and hope that it becomes a tradition, not just for my family, but for the others that come as well.

This year, with the addition of flower beds that were actually weeded, and some lovely lighting that the Farmboy designed and put in place, our place was looking rather more beautiful than usual. We did a trial run the night before, lighting all of the tiki torches and candle lanterns and string lights. I found it a little difficult to get to sleep with all of the excitement in the air...

The morning of... when I put on my custom shirt for the first time, I almost squealed with delight. This logo came to me in the middle of winter, while stirring a pot of stew. It started as a pencil sketch, which was then turned into perfectly formed digital art by a friend, who happens to be a very talented graphic designer (check his web site out here). Somehow things feel much more official-like when there's a graphic tee involved.

We added a portable toilet this year, to help keep traffic in the house at a minimum. I took the liberty of adding my own sign (please forgive me American Sani-Can, but I like my signs better than yours).

My growing collection of thrifted dishes and linens got their yearly airing (still not going with the paper products, my dear Farmboy), the grills were kept smoking and sizzling, with the generous help of good friends, and the potluck table was nearly sway-backed with yummy food brought from homes all over the Portland area.

With a combination of people from the Farmboy's work, our local community, church, members from both sides of our family, and even two brave souls that drove all the way from Las Vegas and camped for a few nights on our property, it was fun to see people that we didn't know knew each other have a mini-reunion right there in our front yard. I really never got to settle down for very long, but the murmur of voices was steady, with kids flitting about, running around in a big gang, and there was so much laughter.

Our crowd was a bit more subdued than last year during the musical performances (a little older? a little less alcohol? weather a bit too hot?), so I'm determined to specially choose some people to come next year that will actually get up and do some dancing. I never realized just how much a performer feeds off of the response of the audience, and I certainly felt the reserved nature of this group. Not that they didn't enjoy themselves; I could see plenty of smiles and feet tapping going on, with a few timely call-outs from certain people that brought laughter and smiles.

My band, The Hipocryts worked super hard in the months and weeks leading up to this event, adding new songs and making the old set better. My bandmates even convinced me to sing a solo, which is never my favorite thing to do; I much prefer adding harmonies. But I did it. And I'm actually glad;  a person should never get too old to try new things.

When it came time to get up there though, our inexperience with performing really showed. Why oh why can't we sound as good in front of people as we do when we're practicing? The crowd was very kind and complimented us on our improvement over last year, which I guess is a good thing. Somehow I felt that maybe they were just being nice. But that's the perfectionist in me speaking, I'm sure. We're going to try to find some local open mic nights to test some audiences that don't know us personally. That ought to be a good indicator of our likability and should also help us to smooth out some of the rough edges.

We did get a thumbs up from the main musician, Chris Stewart. And I have proof right here. So we must have done something right.

I caught up with one of my young nephews after we finished and asked him if he liked our songs. He is the one that is so painfully shy and reserved that he rarely does more than grunt to people that aren't in his immediate family circle. Per usual, I received a grunt and a shrug. But later, my little brother (his Dad) told me that the same little guy said at one point during our performance that he couldn't believe his older brother had gone to play and was "missing out on all of this... this... this... greatness!". And if that was the only compliment I received all evening, it would be enough.

Chris Stewart continues to improve his musical style and set. This guy practically oozes music. Two years ago, it was just him and one guitar. Last year he added a second guitar and had a friend play some hand drums on a few songs. This year? He sat on a cajon (drum box), which he played with a foot pedal while also picking his guitar and singing and jingling a tambourine with the other foot. The iconic one-man-band. And it was good.

My parents came again this year (many of the photos here were taken by my Dad), and they said they really enjoyed it, all except for a few songs (yes, there may have been some swearing and/or questionable content involved in said songs). I think that's a pretty good testimony of the range of audience this guy can entertain.

My Mama and me.

I'm sad for it to be over for another year. Wondering if people will want to come back again next year. Already planning ways to tweak the event to make it better, more fun, more inviting than ever before. Counting down to 2018. Let me know if you want to come!

The day after...

One family of good friends that live in the city camped out next to the couple from Las Vegas (we do live in a quite lovely place, so camping on our property was bound to happen at some point). They shared a morning cup of coffee with us before heading home. This scene made me happy. Three guys that collapsed in their Twistapalooza shirts the night before. 

And perhaps my favorite bit of remnant that I cleaned up the day after... my band's set... taped to the top of a bar stool.

On Being a Rock Star

We had our second annual front yard concert/party (now affectionately dubbed "Twistapalooza") on a sunny day in July. This is a by-invitation-only, bring-your-own-meat, bring-your-own-beverages, bring-your-own-chair, bring-a-side-dish-or-dessert-to-share event.  I was still in the depths of pain management and trying to recover my usual strength, but woke that morning feeling better than I had since the initial injury to my back.

Adrenaline is a good friend to have.

The true excitement I was feeling wasn't just from hosting a big party (which, despite my rather introverted tendencies, I really and truly love), but from the fact that my very own band was going to open up the festivities with a small set of songs. Finally, at the youthful age of 41, I got to pretend to be a rock star for reals, in front of actual breathing human beings.

I'm used to being on stage every Sunday morning, plucking the strings and singing for our congregation. Church music with lots of bodies singing along.

This time, it would be a quite mixed audience of family, friends, co-workers, and miscellaneous hangers-on that were invited by any of the above. We easily doubled our attendance from last year, making it slightly more chaotic, but the added energy was just fuel for my fire.

There were three grills going with friends of the Farmboy managing the meat cooking, there were two canopies covering all of the shared food dishes, there were torches and lanterns filled with citronella, and laughter; so much laughter. There were groups and gangs of kids free ranging all over the place, swinging way too high on the hammock, climbing trees, kicking balls, playing pingpong in the side yard, and generally having the time of their lives.

The evening was once again finished off by the main attraction, Chris Stewart, who only seems to get better with each year. We've known him since before the kids came along, and it has been fun to watch as his musical career has finally started to catch up to his talent. 

It was exhausting and energizing and perfect in just about every way and we wanted to immediately hit repeat the next morning.

Next year, the only things that we wanted to change were to add a tip jar for our valet parking attendants (the firstborn and his friends with walkie talkies had a blast directing cars and were given so many compliments), to not have the hammock out and available for molestation by gangs of children, and to perhaps have a small cover charge so we can add another musician to the lineup. We'll see. There are eleven months left to plan it. I can't wait!

A note about the photos: I was obviously very busy and otherwise occupied most of the day, so very few of them were taken by me. If they look like regular snapshots, they were most likely taken by my Dad (that's him standing by the tree with the Seattle Mariners baseball cap several pictures down),  or were possibly taken by me (I managed a few with my phone and camera after I had performed, eaten and settled down). If they look professional with perfect editing and lighting and sharpness, then they were taken by my little sister Joann.

And now, for an adorable little video clip taken by my Sister in Law (that's my bearded baby brother on the right side) to show just what some of my youngest relatives thought of my band...