Soup of the Evening, Beautiful Soup

Over the weekend I attended a charity fundraiser. I thought it was a fantastic event. It was held in a local arts center, ceramic artists from the community donated bowls, and a local caterer provided soup. We purchased bowls and then had them filled with soup and the proceeds benefited the soup kitchen in town. The Ceramic Genius donated some of her work, and another friend purchased one of her bowls. The bowl was much admired. Many people noticed the bowl and confided to my friend that it was their favorite bowl available for purchase. It took a great deal of willpower on my part not to tell everyone who commented on the bowl, "I know the artist! She's my friend. I may even have been lying on her bed talking to her while she made that very bowl! She made me a bowl that has a unicorn on it. I eat my oatmeal out of it in the morning. My friends are cool! They make bowls!"

I don't know what the friends of the live musicians refrained themselves from saying to people, because the music was stinky. Usually I'm a fan of live music at events, but the music at the fundraiser was someone playing a keyboard while a woman sang schmarmy songs about how we can all be someone's angel. I'm sure it was supposed to tie in with the charitable aims of the evening, but mostly it was just annoying and made me consider alternate, diabolical uses for my soup.

Next week I'm going to a similar event, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed for better music. Maybe jazz.