The Day after the 21st birthday

Hmph. So we went to see Curtis Salgado at Jazzbones last night, and a fine time was had by all.

Salgado is a great blues/rock musician, and of course the Alien Child is a big fan of that type of music, his favorites being Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, BB King, Muddy Waters...well, pretty much any blues guitarist. So he was quite pleased with the music.

Jazzbones is on 6th avenue in Tacoma, WA, and is a smallish nightclub that nevertheless has featured some fine musicians. You can have a nice dinner there (which we did) and it really doesn't matter where you sit, you are in good earshot and can have a good view of the stage. The music was infectiously energetic, and people spontaneously jumped up and danced to the tunes. There were more than a few fine dancers there, with one couple in their 60's or so twirling around with expertise.

I noticed that except for the waitresses, the Alien Child was the youngest there; we got front seats because we had told the reservation desk that it was his 21st birthday. As the music progressed, though, I noticed he looked around and began to get a funny expression on his face.

I asked him what was up, and he gave a half grin. "I can tell this isn't the sort of place for someone in my generation," he said, with a wry smile. He nodded at the dancers on the floor, particularly at the expert couple whose dance was turning decidedly sensuous. "I mean, dude, that's a Cialis advertisement right there."

I feel old now.

He did say he enjoyed himself a lot, especially the music. But I have to say that the odd expression kept appearing on his face every time he looked at the dancers.

The Alien Child is 21 Today

Officially an adult. Well, legally an adult at age 18, but at 21 he's fully an adult; he is now allowed to consume alcohol, he can now drive a truck commercially (not at the same time, of course), and who knows what else.

"Who knows what else."

That has a ring of gloom to it. It could be that I'm feeling just a tad older because of this. Or, perhaps it was just that it was a rough sort of day at work.

Well.

I remember the day he was born. As is typical for Friday the 13th, it went extraordinarily well. I have always had good luck on that day, despite the traditions around that date. The child conveniently was ready to arrive just before rush-hour, so we had no trouble traveling to town on I-5, and he thoughtfully arrived just before dinner time. It was the day--as my husband will tell you--that Ray Luca in Crime Story met his nuclear death--more or less. We didn't have a name ready, so we looked through a baby name book. The hubby thought Jason might be a good name, but considering it was Friday the 13th, I thought that was a bad idea.

We decided on Derek, as it has a good meaning (ruler of the people, or ruled by the people), and I have grown up sensitive to the meaning and sounds of names.


He is out with friends at the moment, no doubt celebrating his birthday. We'll have our family celebration on Friday, when we will be going down to Tacoma and watching/listening to Curtis Salgado at Jazzbones. I'm looking forward to it; it's been a difficult and frustrating week at work, and I will be glad of a bit of time when I can just sit back and forget the work-a-day world.

I just called him--yep, he's out with a friend he's known since they were in junior high and may not be back until late, perhaps he'll even stay overnight. Although, his friend and fiancee has just had a baby girl, and I doubt anyone will have much sleep! So, perhaps he will come home.

And that's another aging thing: some of his friends have already started families.

Urgh.

Not thinking about that now. Good night!

--Karen H.