Were You Expecting Pictures?

Well, too bad, because they're not ready yet. Well, I'm sure they're ready, as they are sitting in the camera, all too happy to be extracted into my computer, or else in my sister's camera, ready to be emailed to me...but that's where they all still are (mostly), so you'll have to wait. Ok, you can have just this one for now.

You would think that a non-morning-type like myself would be opposed to having a small pinkish human in her home, waking up at all ungodly hours before 10am, but people, really. When you are awoken each morning to that face staring back at you, I dare you to try to be cranky. It's just not happening. And the noises..the funny, giggly, babbling nonsense makes it just unfairly cute, and then before you know it, you're fully awake at 7am, sans coffee even, and you're happy about it. It's really a little scary. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of coffee, just after she ate, because watching her laugh at the age-old "vroom vroom, open the garage" feeding trick was so enjoyable. I'm easily entertained.

I tried to convince my sister to just leave her here, but for some reason, she insisted on bringing her home. Waking up tomorrow sans munchkin head will kind of suck.

On a completely un-baby-related note, my sister and I went to go see my dad play in his band last night. I won't go into too much detail here about it, as that was (mostly) why my last blog was blown into the nether regions of the internets...too many details allowed some nosey people to google me out, leading to the family reading of the blog, and frankly, unless you all expect me to never speak about fun stuff like sex, that's not a good idea for anyone. I like to live in the suspended disbelief universe where my father never, ever envisions that I have ever, or ever will have sex (which these days isn't taking all that much suspended disbelief).

But I digress. The point of the band viewing was supposed to be..well..the band. And the band was good, as usual. What was even better were the dancers. Or the dancer, as it was. It's a doowop oldies sort of gig, so they get plenty of people of a certain age who cut the rug. Usually, it's cute, seeing these couples who have danced together for decades moving around the floor, but last night was special.

Kudos to the couple who made my night. Not only were you enthusiastic fans of the music...enough so that you brought your own accompaniment in the form of maracas, which clearly is an instrument lacking in the oldies genre...but the dancing... oh the dancing.

Not only did you take your Fred Astair lessons very seriously as a youngster, but you have since incorporated all sorts of fancy moves over the years. There were modern(ish) additions to your traditional moves, like some fast-paced vogue-ing, and a stuttering moonwalk. I definitely sensed some figure skating influence in your arm choreography, and let's not forget the hi kick, which was implemented even during some slow songs.

The most surprising of all those moves? They were executed by the man. It was sweet.