Last night Aaron and I attended the Funk Fest at the Greek Theater. We had attended last year's Funk Fest that featured the iconoclastic George Clinton. Funk is such fun, unassuming music. We would like to make this a mother-son tradition.
Because the Greek does not allow ticket holders to bring food into the venue, I smuggled our dinner in. I bought chicken salad, fancy olives, tortellini salad, Greek salad, blueberries, and miniature cheesecakes at Wild Oats; transferred them to ziplock bags; placed the bags inside two larger bags; and strapped the bags to my inner thighs. Then I covered the contraband with the only loose skirt I have--a gift from friend Helene in Nova Scotia. Thanks, Helene! To make extra sure I would not be detected, I tied a long scarf around my waist and wore some outrageous earrings that always attract attention.
We had a scrumptious dinner, much better and much cheaper than the lousy, overpriced hamburgers and hot dogs the stands were serving up. Later as Aaron purchased his third $12 beer, I said that next year I should forget about the food and duct tape bottles of beer to my thighs. Aaron responded in his usual style, a quick-witted comment ready at any moment, "I'm sure you'd meet a lot of guys that way."
