Cold Duck

I have always loved my current town of residence. This town was the main setting for a movie that became one of my generation's reference points. People commonly compare it to Mayberry, and that is a reasonably fair assessment. We work hard to maintain the small-town feel against the insanity that is Southern California.

When my dad had his own consulting business, his offices were here, and he was a member of the Chamber. He introduced me then to several of the people I know now, all of them still active members of the Chamber where I now work. I remember getting dragged along to help out at some event. It may have been the Birthday BBQ. Ha. We run the BBQ. In fact, it's our next big event.

One memory from growing up here is Music in the Park. We would, on occasion, grab a pizza or chicken or something picnicky and spend a summer evening listening to some local band's music. I was never thrilled with the bees that so loved our dinner, but the music was always good.

My fabulous apartment last year was across the street from that very park. I had no A/C, and I know everyone on the Music in the Park committee. Thus, most of my Wednesdays last summer included at least a visit to the park. With the Farmer's Market running concurrently, it was generally an interesting evening.

I wandered through the Farmer's Market after work yesterday. I saw some people I know. The roasted almonds guy gave me a free package of roasted almonds coated in vanilla and cinnamon (YUM). I treated myself to a soy latte at the Starbucks on the corner. I got brutally uncomfortable from said latte and have now sworn off soy as a major ingredient. I got honked at in the parking lot by my mother on the way to meeting my godmother for dinner. Eventually, we wandered up to the park. This is a typical summer Wednesday for me.

Last summer, if I stayed, I attached myself to a cluster of chamber members who are always there. They all come as a group though, and a long standing one at that. Some of them are on the board. I was keenly aware that while I may be welcomed, I'm not part of the group. With three of them on the board this year, I'm not sure I should be part of the group.

The band last night, Cold Duck, was pretty good. There were some songs that were unfortunate choices for the lead's voice, but it was an aurally enjoyable experience. The best part, though, was being there with actual friends. Pam and I had planned earlier in the day to go, and close to quitting time, Debbie said they would be there as well. Eventually, there were eight of us kicking back with a pile of kettle corn, red vines, and roasted almonds. The kids danced. We talked. I did steal a Chamber guy's cowboy hat. This cracked the kids up. Pam said something about head lice, which made me laugh, because I was walking through the grass barefooted.

I've always said I don't do groups. I just don't. But last night's Music in the Park adventure was something entirely different, yet not. I don't do well in groups larger than, say, three or four, but any collection of people from this church seems to be an exception. The Z's walked into this church in January or February. Thanks to crazy schedules and my own shyness, I'm only just getting to know them. Still, for reasons unknown to me, eight people was no problem, and I never felt out of place.