Talking Marriage and Long

What do you do when you don't know what to do with yourself?

I started by meeting a girlfriend at The Empress to hear about her recent pirate wedding at the VMFA (she's an artist so it made perfect sense).

We took advantage of "Wine Enthusiast" hours to drink Oveja Negra chardonnay/viognier and L'Enclos des Bories Minervois (okay, mostly the minervois) at a discount.

Talk centered around pre-wedding jitters, bad ball and chain jokes and their lovely wedding dinner at Amuse.

Why have a stealth wedding somewhere that doesn't have great food?

Bacon-wrapped dates in a local honey/Gorgonzola sauce lasted nicely because we were so busy talking; ordinarily they would have been gobbled up for their tantalizing sweet and salty allure, made all the more decadent by that rich sauce.

I wish I could say I had something to equal her stories, but it's tough to top love and marriage.

After she left to work on party preparations (her reception is this weekend), I went home to change and ended up on the phone for two hours.

Those who know me well may want to reread that sentence because my usual phone limit is about two minutes. Simply put, my phone skills suck.

But yesterday was my best friend's birthday and although I'd called her then she'd been out, so tonight was our chance to catch up.

She, a California girl, lives temporarily in god-forsaken North Dakota where there is a two-month summer (she hates snow and being cold), no gay community (so no chance of her dating) and the biggest excitement for the locals is the new Applebee's about to open (they're treating it like a major event).

Shudder. Just when I think my life could use some improvement, I realize how good I have it.

Because we don't talk nearly as often as two women who have been best friends since college should, we had a lot of ground to cover.

Still, that two-hour call may be a lifetime record for me.

By the time we finished chatting, she marveled that I was not out somewhere doing something cultural, an impossibility in her small North Dakota town.

I explained that I was heading out as soon as we finished to listen to music.

I could have just stayed in at that point, but Tuesdays are jazz night at the Camel and there's no cover, so why would I?

To quote a Broadway tune, what good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play.

The Abinnet Berhanu Group was going at it when I arrived.

Like so many incestuous local jazz groups, it contained members I knew from other projects (sax player Marcus Tenney and keyboardist Devonne Harris) and attracted some familiar jazz-loving faces.

The band played original material along with Ellis Marsalis and Wayne Shorter.

My only complaint with them was how long it took them to break down after their set (maybe they were operating on jazz time) while the audience waited for the Scott Clark 4-Tet.

I'm a big fan of these guys with their drums, sax, trumpet and bass lineup.

A guy at the show tonight told me that they are trying to take musician Gerry Mulligan's chordless sound in new directions, whatever that meant.

Personally, I just love how interesting sounding the music is, but then, I'm no musician, unlike probably 90% of the other people in the room.

And I'd bet that every one of them could talk on the phone for two hours and not expect a gold star for it.

My only consolation is that I might have a skill set they don't, although I have absolutely no idea what that might be.

I'll give it some thought and get back to you. But not on the phone.