Ah, yes. The Bisque Fest. And ensuing High Drama.
Before My Girl Nancy and her Blondetourage -- the lovely Coreen, Kelly and Jody -- arrived, we entertained ourselves hangin' by the Westy, listening to the music, enjoying snacks and drinkie-poos.
(Aren't they cute?)
And then, all of a sudden, we heard a faint voice. A quiet cry for help. The voice came from a car of women of, as they say, a certain age, and they were stuck. Stuck.
We descended upon them en masse.
The drummer from one of the bands came over with a hammer and a towel, and got under the car and banged around. It didn't do any good, but we were impressed.
So he called for reinforcements.
The problem, though, was the truck couldn't get to the car. There was, clearly, only one thing to do.
Push, Jennie! Push!
Thar she goes!
Well, the Bisque Fest just kept on rocking...