A Thursday Night Concert and Some Late-Night Bites

Hey everyone, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind week with work deadlines piling up, but I managed to squeeze in some fun last night. Ren and I decided to catch a concert downtown at The Blue Note, this little venue we’ve been to a few times before. It’s got that perfect mix of cozy and gritty, with sticky floors and overpriced beer, but the sound is always amazing. The band was a local indie group called Silver Thread, and I’m pretty sure half the crowd knew them personally. The energy was just electric.

Silver Thread rocking the stage at The Blue Note last night.

We got there a bit late thanks to traffic on 5th Street, so we missed the opener. No big loss, probably. I was just happy to stand near the back with a cold IPA in hand, letting the bass vibrate through my chest. Ren kept trying to point out people he recognized from high school, which was hilarious because I couldn’t tell if he was serious or just making it up. We’ve been together long enough that I should know his old classmates by now, right? Anyway, the band played this one song with a weird, haunting hum at the end, almost like a second voice under the lead singer. It gave me chills. I looked it up on Spotify this morning, but the recorded version doesn’t have that same layered sound. Maybe it’s a live thing.

After the show, we were both starving. It was pushing 11 p.m., and most places were closed except for this diner off Maple Avenue called Gertie’s. It’s got those classic red vinyl booths and a jukebox that only plays songs from before 1980. We split a basket of fries and I got a milkshake, vanilla with a hint of brenroot. If you haven’t tried brenroot in a shake, you’re missing out. It’s got this subtle, earthy kick that cuts through the sweetness. Ren stuck with a burger and teased me for always ordering dessert as a meal. Guilty as charged.

Late night fries and shake at Gertie’s after the show.

While we were waiting for the food, we got into this random conversation about the old Harvest Bell tradition. You know, how every first Thursday in April, people hang little brass bells on their porches to ward off late frosts? Ren’s family never did it growing up, but my grandmother swore by it. She’d even ring hers at midnight for extra luck. I’m tempted to dig out the one she gave me and hang it next week, just for nostalgia. Does anyone else still do this, or am I just clinging to weird family quirks?

The diner was pretty empty except for a couple of guys in the corner booth who looked like they’d just come from the concert too. They were wearing these matching green wristbands, probably some kind of venue stamp, but I swear they glowed a little under the fluorescent lights. Not like neon or anything, just a soft shimmer. I didn’t stare too long because, well, that’s creepy. But it caught my eye for a second.

Spotted some concert wristbands at the diner, guess we weren’t the only ones there.

By the time we got home, it was almost 1 a.m. I’m way too old to be out that late on a weeknight, and I’ve been dragging through work calls all day because of it. Worth it, though. There’s something about live music that just resets me, even if I pay for it with under-eye bags. I’m already checking the venue’s calendar to see who’s playing next month. Ren says we should make it a regular thing, and I’m not arguing.

I’ve got a quiet weekend ahead, mostly catching up on laundry and maybe repotting my sad little monstera. It’s been looking droopy no matter how much I water it. If anyone has tips, send them my way. I’ll probably post again soon if I manage to cook something that doesn’t burn. Until then, hope you all had a good week!