Bob and I used to organize monthly jam sessions.  We called them Stitch, Bitch, Pluck and Bow. Folks brought potlucks, friends who didn’t play music were encouraged to bring their knitting or other handwork.  The evenings were nice…

But I was stressed as hell.

I wanted my house to be CLEAN, which was nearly impossible with two creative kids under the age of 7.

I wanted to food to be PERFECT, because, well, you know how I am about food.

Oh!  Oh!  And I had to have a new song to bring to each session.  And IT had to be perfect.  And I had to have it memorized, because, REAL musicians memorize their music.  And I couldn’t REPEAT any songs.

Stitch, Bitch, Pluck & Bow died a quiet death at the hand of my exhaustion.

But as you all know, Nate and Jenn joined Sap Bush during their Covid-induced premature-mid-life crisis in Sept of 2020.  Once we were all vaccinated, we became a pod, and they joined our family Sunday dinners.  Late one summer evening, after the dishes were cleared, they asked if we could re-open the cafe for Saturday evening dinners, and bring in musicians.

No.

Why?

Lot’s of reasons.  It was too exhausting being the top one. They offered to run it FOR me.  Why did they want it re-opened?

Nate felt he might die if he didn’t get music back in his life.

I explained that, if he was hosting a music session at the cafe, he wouldn’t be enjoying the music.  He’d be pulling beers, cleaning the toilet, checking ID’s, serving food, and washing dishes.

But he needed music back.

He sounded like Bob.  Bob longed to bring back music.

So I wondered if we could host sessions again, but with different rules.

1. One must agree to be a shitty player at least periodically, if not through ALL the numbers.
2. One must celebrate shitty performances
3. The food should be GOOD, but I don’t have to be the one to cook it.
4. The house should be clean, but my kids can do it.

And so, twice-monthly Saturday night music sessions have returned to our home.

I’m optimistic that now, Nate won’t die.

And finally, Bob has his spiritual center back.

We have very strict protocols about participation: triple vaxxes, and agreements to either testing or not being indoors unmasked with anyone outside one’s pod for a week prior to the session.  And we intentionally keep our numbers down.  So while I would love to invite y’all to come, you can’t.  But here are a few clips for you to listen to.  Imagine listening to this beside a big ol’ fire in the masonry stove, sipping a beer, eating some of Corbie’s rouladen with braised cabbage….You can sing or play along, or not.  You can play well, or you can play shitty.  It’s about the fun, not the perfection.

Saoirse and Ula, my brown-eyed girls, cheerfully stumbling through a rendition of Brown-eyed girl:

Nate on Galway girl:

Bernie Neuman on a Quebecois fiddle tune (Bernie can actually play well, but we let him come anyhow)

And finally, here’s proof that 1. I surrendered my need for perfection in music; and 2. Bob has a really nice butt.