Last Days of SATX

We returned to San Antonio from Montreal without the kids to play some final shows, finish up work,  visit with friends, and move.

Matt Parker is that rare breed of gallant gentleman one doesn't encounter often. He is one of the first musicians we met and became a dear friend of ours. We caught up with him at Stonewerks.

Saying goodbye to AF folks. Jean and I shared an office for almost two years -- and we still like each other! Bye, AF peeps! I love ya.

Parked it poolside for hours at the Fudge-Brown Fourth of July party, visiting with friends old and new.

Celebrated my birthday at La Fogata with these awesome people who took care of us and supported us and made us family.

Rooftop drinks at the Paramour (for the record, Judy never looks pissed, it's just the only pic I have!)

Get this -- we went out for dinner and left the house at 9:30 pm. Another odd feeling was being 1) alone in the house and 2) alone in the house overnight while he played a show in Corpus Christie.

Luke's final show at Random Beer Garden in Boerne.

Lucas Jack super fans!

Meanwhile, in the parking lot...

Vic gave a marvelous speech to close the show, quoting Dobie Gray:

Thanks for the joy that you've given me

I want you to know I believe in your song

the simplest, most succinct, and most heartfelt expression of the incredible support they've given Luke as an artist and the happiness his performances bring them. It was perfect. Luke closed the show with Drift Away.

We had dinner with his bandmates* and the Sylvias** at Down on Grayson and Rosario's (trying to eat as many fresh warm flour tortillas as possible, remember) and then it was time to pack. We purged the house and 1-800-GOT-JUNK (what a great company) picked it up: 

*LOVE YOU GUYS
**LOVE YOU TOO

The packers were a grandmother-mother-granddaughter team who were friendly and funny, satisfying our questions of "what's the weirdest thing you've seen in someone's house? dirtiest? strangest?" (Funniest was the grandmother telling a story of packing a pro athlete's house, who dumped cocaine on herself when pulling sweaters from an overhead shelf. (Apparently the mistress of the house was unfazed, musing 'I thought we got it all'.)

Last night in our house. We came to this house two days' married. Luke launched a new career. I began a new phase of mine. We knew two people in the seventh largest city in the United States. I learned how to cook here by using America's Test Kitchen books. I crowed over making pizza - actual pizza! Luke started playing open mics and gigs that paid almost nothing; loading his equipment in and out of the van (Vanna White) in the heat, the rain, mud, upstairs, across fields; meeting people and learning sound, website design, recording, video. And writing songs, so many songs on the piano we found on Craigslist from a woman named Rachel who lamented to me her wayward teen daughter's choices while the men moved the piano. The very week I started piano lessons I found out I was pregnant with Clementine; Luke had just left for Bonnaroo and I told him over the phone and then made some white bean soup (which turned out terribly and I put away Mark Bittman forever and vowed never again to stray from ATK). I laughed a real belly laugh at least four times a day at work most days. We brought Clementine and then Josie home to this house and they each slept in the mini crib in the corner of our bedroom. I started this blog when we arrived here and Luke came up with the name over lunch at (where else?) Central Market. When I described my blog to Melissa Guerra very early on - I just moved from St Louis, I just got married, it's to share what we're up to - she said, "oh, a letter home." But just as much as a letter home it's been a diary for me and a place to record the things I saw, felt, ate, read, experienced - 539 entries!

Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.

from "Sometimes" by Mary Oliver

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