So last night Jack had a gig down in Carpinteria with Alastair at the Avocado Festival. It is an event with some adorable posters that appear to advertise an actual state-wide, state-fair size jamboree of high-fat fruit. In fact, the Avocado Festival boldly inhabited three blocks of downtown Carp with guacamole-and-chips booths, and Jack and Alastair's gig had enough of a whiff of "Puppet Show and Spinal Tap" about it to explain Alastair's twitchiness trying to rock out with his Glock out while two ten-year-old girls were doing cartwheels across the empty dance floor and old people were awkwardly trying both to cover their ears and wheel themselves away to The Gay Café for iced lattés. Jackson threw such a fit at the feet of the balloon man (after I'd bought and watched him pop three balloon-inside-a-balloon creations and refused to give him a dollar for another one) that the balloon man finally just gave him one to shut him up. Which he did, but only after he belly flopped into a mud puddle. Whew, that extra pair of socks I brought sure came in handy. So all in all it was quite a successful Friday night for the Kennedy family.