Thursday, September 2, 2010

Confessions of a Type A


Picture me this. A small bar and music club in downtown Austin picked at random out of the Austin Chronicle. Momo's 10th Anniversary Bash it said. 6th street and Rio Grande, 8pm. With about 6 acts lined up for the evening all with little red stars beside them indicating a "must see" event, we figured this might be worth a look. Being in the live music capital of the world, we were somewhat overwhelmed by the quantity of music available to us for the evening. Aside from these helpfully placed stars, we were all but shy of closing our eyes and pointing at random to the events page of the newspaper to see where we should head for the night.

We found Momo's shortly after 8 and discovered one last table available right in front of the stage. Dustin Welch was playing the first set. Banjo, Cello and Fiddle.

I ride behind two horses side by side
The young one tries to lead me with his pride
While the older horse whose pride was lost in youth
Tries to lead me down the righteous path of truth

Both those faithful horses have whims
Born with strengths and weaknesses that blend
I used to ride them both alone most anywhere
But it takes both horses now to get me there



Not your average cover song. And this was the depth and quality of music we heard all night long. Act after act set up their own equipment, quick sound check and then they were off. We were easily at that table until 1AM not wondering for a second what time it actually was.
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Here's another one:

We recently received an invitation to dinner. This is not terribly uncommon. As we've immersed ourselves in school, work and church here on the island we give and receive dinner invitations with relative frequency when we can find an open evening to entertain. This one came to us. Matilde is a colleague of Andy's who recently moved from France to continue her post doctoral research at UTMB.

Her boyfriend, Josh, is a native Texan and teaches at a charter school on the island. The two met in France and have since moved to the states. What an incredible pair! Five of us sat around the cramped little dining area of their two bedroom apartment and got a first hand account of French culture. It was a weeknight and yet somehow, stories of wine and cheese and travel kept us going for 4 or 5 hours into the evening.

When our hosts couldn't adequately translate french sentiments into english they used hilarious hand signals. The taste of a good french wine, for example, cannot be adequately described in the english. Thus, french wine is best portrayed by 10 fingers placed at the base of your chin and traced slowly down to the bottom of your throat. When combined with a hum of warm delight, all of us soon got the picture and were immediately wondering just what that would taste like if we tried it. These hand signals were then assumed adequate descriptors of other delicacies and were used liberally throughout the evening. We tasted homemade chocolate cake made with Matilde's coveted french chocolate and drank "Digestif" - a french after-dinner drink made from apples. How else can I describe Digestif now without tracing my hands down my throat and remember this wonderful evening with new friends.

I honestly think the five of us could have talked all night as we continued to create Paris on our island in Texas - with words and with food.
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I'm Type A through and through. I love order. I get a little rambunctious on Thursdays and Fridays when the house has been given up to the clutter monsters. Sometimes I think there is not really anything more perfect than an Excel spreadsheet that functions with the click of one cell (I know, this is the cross that I bear).

I learn more and more however that there is something of God in these beautiful moments when culture, creativity, diversity and community blend so perfectly on evenings such as these. So perfectly, that even a self proclaimed Type A forgets to check the time. I suddenly realize that I have no idea what hour in the evening we are in...and in effect, open an intangible gift as I recognize that I don't know and that really, I don't even mind.

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