You can try keeping me in by inviting me to dinner, but that doesn't mean I won't suggest going out at some point.
Which is to say that after the veal and the bottle of Mulderbosch Rose were savored near an open window (yes, on a fine January evening), I made a case for adjourning to Carytown Bistro for a little bluegrass.
I've been told that I can make a very convincing argument when I want to.
Since it was my first time there for music since it changed from Bin 22, I didn't know how much of a crowd to expect.
The place turned out to be nearly full with a lot of people standing to hear Tara Mills (Charlottesville) and Chloe Edmonstone (Asheville) play their bluegrass.
They'd rounded up a local bass player and part-time RVA mandolin player to round out the sound and shoehorned themselves into the alcove up front.
The reluctant contingent and I got glasses of the Tuscan Il Bastardo and managed to grab a couple of recently available seats in a community booth right up front.
The set featured the violinist Chloe and the bass player Zach each singing lead vocals for a song, changing up their sound considerably.
Chloe's voice reminded me a bit of Allison's, always a good thing.
Josh Bearman of the Hot Seats arrived during the break, convenient because he was on next.
In his defense, he'd just finished his shift on WRIR, so it wasn't like he'd been dawdling.
But he and band mate Allison Self, who've dubbed themselves Sweet Fern, know exactly what they're doing and the two launched onto their set effortlessly.
Josh is a master at stage banter, one very funny and superbly talented guy.
Allison's big, beautiful voice was made for "old timey" music and between her ukulele and his guitar/mandolin, they pulled off a stellar performance, only resorting to a lyric sheet for the encore demanded by the audience.
With a Carter Family cover, songs about tried and true love as well as one about being a single gal, there was a little something to make everyone happy.
Which was a good thing considering I'd dragged the dinner party with me out into a balmy sixty-degree night to partake of a little mountain music.
Doesn't sound like much of a sacrifice to me.
Fortunate are those I can convince to join me. Dessert can always wait.