I'm with the band

On Sunday I went to a party-slash-outdoor-concert in Unionville given by two dear friends of mine. The husband has a very grown-up day job tending to other people's money, but when he's off duty he plays guitar once a week in a rock band, Jimi's Not Home. He has always been dismissive about his musical skills, so I wasn't quite sure what to expect (but was prepared to be lavish with my praise anyway).
Turns out, he and the band -- another guitarist, a bass player, a drummer and a vocalist -- are very talented, and we all enjoyed ourselves immensely. Although it was very hot, the venue was perfect: in the back yard, with guests sitting on lawn chairs and dogs wandering around, occasionally mingling with the band and even barking at the drummer during "Satisfaction." The tunes were classics like "Heat Wave" and "Somebody to Love," the volume wasn't too loud, so you could carry on a conversation, and there was plenty of great food (indeed, the dining room was reserved for desserts exclusively).
These two are such great hosts. They actually mingle with the guests, assume that people are capable of getting their own food and drink, and create such a relaxed atmosphere that I felt perfectly comfortable just hanging out for a while in the rope sling chair on the deck, watching the thunderstorm roll in from the west. The band ended its set just in time, and everyone pitched in as roadies to carry chairs, tables and the sound equipment to safety.