Wine, Women and Song: Chandler Jazz Festival with My Girls

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"By and large, jazz has always been like the kind of a man you wouldn't want your daughter to associate with."

-- Duke Ellington, jazz band leader, pianist and composer

Every year I walk away from the Chandler Jazz Festival going, "Damn. I need to play in a jazz combo."  I'd like to play late into the night with worn out hands and a sweat-stained collared shirt draped by a loosened necktie. I'd like to talk about art and world peace and women with my colleagues until the early hours of morning.

Instead, I play drums in a cover rock band on an extraordinarily irregular basis with a pair of drinking buddies. Hardly the sensibility, art, and culture of jazz. And I live in suburbia with a lovely wife and a charming toddler. But that's life.

Brooke and I like going to the Chandler Jazz Festival.  We'll drink $5 wine, sit in the grass, and watch the musicians do their thing. Chloe's gone with us since she was born, too. You should see her.  Total strangers are always telling her how cute and beautiful she is - that's because they don't have to raise her or bribe her with popsicles to go poo on the potty.  Cute? Whatever, people.

We sat next to a group of 6 college students, 3 girls and 3 guys. The girls noticed Chloe, of course. Then Chloe pulled out her irresistable hat tricks, namely walking right up to the brunette and giggling at her. "Oh my God," the girl said, then shifted on her side, brushed her hair behind her ears and fell for it, "you are soooo cute!"

Game over. Sorry guys.

I watched the smiles and laughter from the three dudes take a hard nose dive when their their babes turned their attention to Chloe. The girls went all gooey over her. Chloe was dancing in the grass wearing a flower headband, bright blue pants and her new open toed sandals. Her blue eyes and blond hair, standard issue attention-getters.

Those three guys turned pale, one spilled his beer on the ground. There's no better birth control than seeing your girlfriend going ga-ga over a blond cutie dancing on the grass with the unmistakable swish-swishing sound of a diaper underneath her pants.  This too can be yours!

About the jazz. We watched three bands: Dmitri Matheny Group, Brice Winston Quartet, and Bleu Orleans.  The evening went like this, the pictures say it better:




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