Paul and I are on vacation this week… We’re celebrating nine years of being married.
Nine years of being amazed at how lucky I got.
Nine years of wondering if he listens to a word I say.
Nine years of Paul failing to appreciate my talent for micromanagement.
Nine years of me having 1,237,894% more to say about any given topic than Paul is actually interested in hearing.
Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.
Last weekend Paul and I went to Disco America—a Hustle dance competition. When I say, “Hustle” to people, it conjures up big mustaches, gold chains and skeevy guys. Lots of cologne, Saturday Night Fever, gold lamé, Scarface, white polyester, bubble machines and feathered hair.
It wasn’t quite as awesome as all that—but it was pretty awesome. Even two days later, my feet hurt, and I’m still exhausted—a measure of plenty of good dancing. And how I am now too old to be awake at two o’clock in the morning.
The quality of the video isn’t fantastic, but the dancers are.
Last weekend, Paul and I went to the Philadelphia Dancesport Festival—a yearly ballroom and Latin competition. We saw some nice dancing, with the added value of an opportunity to wear excessive eye makeup.
The event wasn’t as good as past years—we didn’t see anything truly spectacular. But it did make me think of the most fabulous year we attended.
The video is of Yulia Zagoruychenko and her partner, (whom you will not even notice). There are plenty of more recent videos of her, but I saw them do this routine in person five years ago. It remains one of the most astonishing things I’ve ever seen. She is the person I plan to come back as in my next life.
If you’re not into dancing, you should watch the video anyway. Her costume is reason enough.