The big tree at Guero’s outdoor patio.

Saturday evening on South Congress means there is live music at Guero’s Taco Bar.  I love their trees!

Saturday afternoon Banjo Man spent a couple of hours at the Continental Club listening to Redd Volkaert and his band rock the house. I stayed at the condo to work, despite our new neighbor’s incredibly intense remodeling project. Despite using my earbuds (and piping subliminal writing music into my brain) the constant noise of his drilling and pounding and banging had made me crazy.

I was to meet Banjo Man at the Continental Club and we were to go out to dinner somewhere along the tourist-filled street. By 5:30 I was ready to either throw myself face down into the pool or drink a margarita.

It’s always best to choose tequila over death.

Banjo Man could tell I was at some kind of breaking point, so he fed me (Chicken Cabo at the Magnolia Cafe) and then hustled me down the sidewalk to find some music and alcohol.

Music = Happy.

I have never been much of a drinker. There was one severe and life-changing episode at Mardi Gras when I was seventeen and drank four Hurricanes and was so sick all night I thought I was going to die. There has never been an event like that since then. But when I turned 60 and ended up going back to work, well, I discovered that having a margarita once in a while wasn’t such a bad thing. Tequila didn’t make me sick (whiskey) or give me a migraine (gin, rum) or make me sleepy (wine). In fact, it made me positively cheerful.

Which, after Really Bad Writing Days, Banjo Man is grateful for.

Thanks, Guero’s.  A good time was had by all.