Sound of music

Carl and I went out for dinner at the second-closest pub last night. I was agitating for Mexican but that would have involved getting the car out so we compromised. (BTW, dear non-Ontario readers, no pubs allow smoking here, so no second-hand smoke.)

They know us there, sort of - enough to get waved to and smiled at - and it's a relaxed atmosphere - all kind of people 'til about 9 and then older gay men after that for the most part. You can watch the lineup at the club across the street, which is often entertaining.

But it being Saturday they had a band playing, and their equipment was set - loud. It's the kind of place where the band is local and middle-aged and one member has a flat a-string for a long time, and this band played stuff like "Some Kind of Wonderful." Loudly.

Witch baby went wild, kicking and (perhaps) pounding: let me out of here! After having read that amniotic fluid actually conducts sound better than air I felt obliged to wear my jacket around my waist to try to muffle the sound a little, but we weren't quite ready to go and maybe the movements were paroxyms of delight? We stayed 4 songs, and then decided that was enough "learning about electric guitars" for the baby. And enough of that kind of music for the rest of us.

When Emily did that in Return of the King I thought it was great, and went to see the movie again. I assumed she was delighted. But this time, I'm not so sure. Maybe it's disturbing. And you can't get in there and give the baby a hug.

Once we got home I think baby was tired out 'cause s/he settled down for about an hour. In the night and this morning we're back to experiencing soccer practice.

Now Lynn says we have to make sure to play good music (to her taste) loudly enough that the baby doesn't get the idea that that band is what music's all about. I guess we know her opinion.