Mr. Man & I went to a wedding in the Oakland hills on Friday night, where we got to hang out with some old friends and enjoy the unusually warm evening. I was from the "Graduate school" contingent of the bride's friends, a group that is particularly fond of drinking and dancing. I love going to weddings with this group because we are usually the first ones on -and the last ones off- the dance floor.
But my friends, this time we were sadly outdone. The groom's aunt, a 75-year-old grandma, was our dancing queen. She danced indiscriminately, some would say promiscuously, with everyone there. She goaded reluctant men from their chairs for a boogie, freely broke in on couples to share a salsa dance, danced with old and young, men and women, the talented and the rhythmically challenged.
I left that night hoping that I could one day learn to be as free, friendly, and joyous as she was. I left hoping that I could learn to party like a grandma.
(Can you spot her?)
I'd post this on the "Post-Engagement-Party Post" but you haven't written it yet.
My better-in-the-kitchen half is requesting the secrets of your Indian food success. I couldn't be happier about it unless I were having it for dinner again tonight. Which means my happiness is limited mostly by the fact that he does not read DC.typepad.com.
So good seeing the DC fam this weekend as usual, though it's too bad about Mr. Man and his condition [read: job].
Posted by: Colleen | June 29, 2008 at 07:31 PM