Turn The Beat Around

"Hey, let's go see Gloria Estefan at the Hollywood Bowl."  This from Joan, the fearless octogenarian founder of the Sherman Oaks Jazz Hand Flashers.  That's all it takes to get me out of the house on a summer night.  And that's how I wound up at the Bowl last night, with Carrie and Nadine and Nadine's husband Barry filling in for Joan, who selfishly opted out, choosing her son's 60th over us.  The nerve of some people. It hurts just to think about it. When the pain hits, I'll just think about guest performer Andy Garcia, who turned up on bongos not once, but twice, yet.

A.G. probably knew the SJG would be in the audience.  Oh, yeah.  Andy and me, we go way back.  One of his gorgeous daughters went to preschool with the eldest son, and lucky me, I got to see Mr. Handsome almost daily.  Occasionally, I even found the courage to say hi.  He said hi back.  We had a moment, okay?

In keeping with the Latin feel of the evening, I returned home to the blaring, ear-busting, sanity-squashing sounds of Mariachi music blasting from a neighborhood party.  In my entire life, I've never heard Mariachi music played at this ungodly volume.  Loud doesn't begin to cover it.  Fortunately, it only went on till 2 a.m.