Dancing Dirty

At my dad's wedding, almost two years ago, I danced with Grandma. Mention of that dance has surfaced in every conversation we have had since that day and an enlarged, fuzzy picture of the event is proudly displayed in her living room beside the other most memorable moment in her life, her second wedding. Before my cousin Karly was even engaged, Grandma's usual reminder of our dancing began to hint at the future possibility of re-enacting that special night. She was thrilled when she found out that my brother Matt was renting a white dance floor for the event and was seen polishing it on her hands and knees after it arrived.

The night of the wedding, I found myself in charge of the bar. While I was busy mixing mocktails and Italian sodas, I could feel Grandma lingering around the bar with her eyes gleaming, waiting for our dance. When the line slowed and we ran out of pineapple juice, I seized the window of opportunity to grab Grandma and we headed onto the dance floor. Voici, the result:

The video requires some explanation. First, we happened to be the only people dancing at that time and I was painfully aware of the fact. My discomfort at being the center of attention was increased by the cameras recording every minute of it. Hence, the awkward smiles. Second, if you notice that I'm going a little fast for Grandma to keep up, that requires a confession: I didn't have much time and I figured that if I wore her out a little, one dance would be enough and she would be satisfied (not that I've ever had to worry about satisfying women). Third, yes, I almost dropped her. When I told her I was going to dip her she simply went limp and fell back.
All told, we're lucky she's still with us. Love you GRANDMA!