Definition of Perfection

Lunch perfection

Brother#2 and I didn't spend nearly as much time at Small Town's fabulous music festival as we had intended. After a full summer during which we prayed for rain nearly every day, Mother Nature chose to throw open the clouds during the four days of the year during which we'd have been okay with some sunny weather.

I'm no fair-weather fan but I don't especially like being soaked with the prospect of no dry clothes (wait--I think that makes me a fair-weather fan) so Brother and I waited for the Weather Channel radar to stop showing ominous red patches over Small Town before heading for the festival grounds.

Just for the record, more rain fell during the festival than during the three months before the festival. Still, except when lightning was actually setting nearby transformers on fire, the music plays on. People put on their boots and ponchos and spend time between sets laughing at the small children getting stuck in the mud. (Really! Brother and I giggled and giggled at the youngster turning slow circles around a muck-entrapped left foot. Because we're compassionate like that.)

In fact, the cool weather added a certain coziness to the proceedings that a sunlit day would have lacked. Clouds and moisture wrapped around the boundaries of the festival until it felt like its own idyllic little world.

I found myself  watching my favorite band on stage, while I slowly chewed the most perfect reuben sandwich I've ever eaten (charred exactly right, just to the point of almost-burned, and with sauerkraut salted to perfection) and sipped a cappucino.

Brother looked at me and said, "I don't think there could be a more perfect moment than this."

Nope. There could not be.

My favorite band, as seen over my sandwich