Keith at Laguna Beach -- 08Sept2012

I don't normally get to do a Saturday night at Laguna because Jim & Warren have a "standing date" there, but they weren't going to be there this time, so I decided I ought to do it in their stead, even though I've been playing way too much lately.

I was halfway set up when my new nemesis, Bluegrass Boy, came up and asked me if I was just setting up, or tearing down. I told him I was setting up, so he and his bass playing sidekick went on across the street to the opposite corner.

I should have just relinquished the main corner and asked when he'd be done (and I will, if this happens again), 'cuz as long as he's playing that terrific, novel, happy, catchy, bluegrass stuff, I'm chopped liver. We both started at 5:00, and by the time he quit at 8:30, I'd played to an empty corner half of the time, and made like, six bucks in tips.

Fortunately, I'm just plain tougher than he is (or his tip jar couldn't hold no more), and in the hour and a half more that I played, without the competition, my tips-per-minute skyrocketed for a total of $53 for the night. Of course, my stuff works better later in the evening anyway, when people are winding down, but I have to get there early to secure The Corner.

Anyway, I did have some fun. A local family that I'd seen before (and whose 3 girls love me) came by again, and this time it was dark enough that I gave them fingerlights (instead of the bubbles last time). They're pretty crazy kids, bouncing around the area, tripping people with their unpredictable movements.

After a while, another family showed up, and I had the older crazy girl take some lights over to their two glum-looking kids. The little boy perked up and ran around "beaming" stuff, and then suddenly just took the river rock that I use as a paperweight for the song sheets, sitting on the cover of the concrete trashcan next to me. His dad yelled at him, and he just dropped it there in the middle of the sidewalk. (I'm, of course, in the middle of a song, and can't do anything but watch. But I really never *have* to do anything -- the parents (almost) always take care of whatever their kids are up to.) The dad (quietly) yells some more at the kid to "put that back", and the kid finally picks it up, brings it back to the trashcan, and throws it in!

Dad flips out, jumps up and grabs the kid, who commences screaming, and off they go, with Mom and Sister chasing after. I spend the rest of the night wincing every time anyone throws something away, knowing that my favorite rock is getting more and more buried. But at the end of the night, I opened up the can to find that the rock had landed right in an ice cream cup, and was easily fished out, if drenched in melted vanilla.