We took the day off from running and went to a jazz festival. I assured Mo, who doesn’t care for jazz, that there wouldn’t be any. She was not amused at the first sign of trombones. Trombonists are bad, bad people.
But I bought her off with a $4 snow cone (which gave her tongue the blues, likely violating the spirit of a jazz festival), and the world’s coolest salsa band eventually played. All was forgiven.
I was totally smitten with the old school T-shirt till I looked up the what it means. Lost in translation indeed.
Mo posed with the world’s largest piñata, and we watched a girl dancing with her mom and her monkey. Well worth the price of admission for that alone. Although it was free. Whatever. A fine time was had by all.
Bonus: No mosh pit!!!