Yesterday was the wedding of the esteemed Dave Thorpe and Claire. The ceremony was wonderful, displaying Dave's traditionally hilarious wit and playfulness, which is magnified by Claire's own sense of playfulness. Afterwards was the reception at Dance Street. While there, I mainly ended up hanging out with Matt, Gretchen, Molson, Dwight, and Brando. In short, it was quite enjoyable. However, it must be noted that I am a dancer of the sort that is purely hypothetical. That is to say, I only dance when the mood strikes me, and that is seldom when there is anybody there that I am dying to impress with my dancing skills. Or I've managed to drink myself into extroversion. As there was only a glass of wine to drink, I decided to play it safe and wallflower it. Part of me wishes that I had the courage to get out on the dancefloor and tear it up, but the other part of me knows that if I did so, the more theologically inclined among the audience might take this for some sort of dark ritual used to summon demons or something. Apparently, some people frown on that sort of thing. At any rate, my dancing skills are still only in the hypothetical realm for all involved.
Ah, the perils of the dance. However, it was fun, so shazam for that.
