Belly dancing?!

Yesterday I took a day trip up to central New Jersey to go to my great uncle Nate's 99th birthday party/6th wedding anniversary. That's right, he was married to his third wife at age 93. Please raise your hand if that also applies to you. His wife, Helen, is only 80, a baby by comparison. So this party went from 12:30 to 4 or so. The average age was around 75. It was full of family I did not know for the most part (I got an entire new section of my family 6 years ago!) and Nate and Helen's friends who I definitely did not know (because I was not an adolescent during the Great Depression). At 12:55 pm, my cousins and I decided a drink was required. Do not judge. We also got Nate a stiff martini which he promptly downed. Did I mention that he is 99? What a baller.
In the middle of from making polite conversation with people at least two generations my senior, it was announced that there would be dancing. Belly dancing. Helen's friend's daughter is apparently a belly dancer. She is also around 50. She did a couple of dances by herself before asking for volunteers to join her. She pulled up three 80-year olds, gave them silk scarves, and taught them rudimentary belly dance moves. If you haven't seen geriatrics shake their midriff, you are missing something. Something ridiculous, to be specific. It was just an absurd situation and I was completely unprepared. I could only sit there covering my mouth with my hand from a combination of disbelief and laughter. I was just going to see family and be a good great-nephew; I did not know I would be getting a free show.

The past week was fairly writing intensive because my note is due soon. This week will be even more so. I'm not saying the writing will be good.
On Friday, I took a break from writing to have lunch with Asher who was in town briefly. We went to a fairly nice restaurant in Dupont and upon sitting down Ash immediately says "Happy birthday, sorry I missed it," and pulled out the sketchiest looking package ever. I have a picture:


That beauty is a bottle of Nicaraguan rum wrapped in tape and a ziplock bag, just in case you couldn't tell. Clearly the most appropriate thing to be whipping out and placing on the table in the middle of a nice restaurant. Thanks Ash! I am glad to see he has not lost his touch.

I refuse to watch Sportscenter for the next week. The Patriots forgot the cardinal rule of sports: don't suck. I'm not even sad that I didn't get to watch the game because I was in Jersey. Though I like to think that maybe if I had watched and provided that little extra boost of positive energy then it could have changed everything. A kind of butterfly effect (not with Ashton Kutcher though). Does anyone else think like that ever? I got made fun of for saying that before, so I really hope I am not the only one.