Montreal wedding
.1. Another wedding over (4 down, 3 to go)…and will start taking bets on who’s going to get divorced first. With 7 weddings in one summer, the odds are quite slim that all 14 of these people will grow old together.
.2. Friday’s wedding was the nicest of the four thus far; it was at Chateau Vaudreille (am certain I spelled – spelt? -- that incorrectly) right outside of Montreal, and the ceremony was on the waterfront…just beautiful. The duration of the evening was an absolute riot; ran into some old friends I’d not seen in quite some time and that made for an amazing dinner. Laughed myself silly, tried to do the tango, learned to make birds out of napkins, did a lot of dancing, and enjoyed way too much salmon, cola and coffee until 2 a.m. (none of which I regret). Bride was gorgeous, groom was stressing & I can’t wait for them to come back from their honeymoon.
.3. Humidity does not become me…or my hair.
.4. Diamonds are not a girl’s best friend (sadly, neither are Manolos); bobby pins are.
.5. Came up against that dancing problem, yet again. This time, it was like dancing among live wire; too scared to shimmy this way or shake that way, in case I ran into one of the live wires and caught whatever it was they had. I think I know the secret to dancing well: the farther one is away from the centre of gravity, the less likely they will dance properly, or possess any rhythm. Naturally, the closer you are to the centre of gravity, the more rhythm God will have granted your small frame.
At one point, I thought one gentleman was actually (I kid you not) making fun of dancing…and so, he was dancing all weird like to prove that ‘funny’ dancing. Two and a half hours later, I realized he wasn’t kidding. I almost started crying.
.6. ‘Rhythm’ is a tricky word to spell.
.7. I said this on Friday night, and I will type this out now: When a woman is bellydancing, the male serves no purpose (other than as the receptor of seduction) outside of an accessory.
It should be as follows:
Women bellydance, men appear somber and clap.
Women bellydance, men get on their knees and clap. Women bellydance, men smile and clap.
A man should never, ever, ever try to match a female as she bellydances. At most, and I mean this seriously, a man should put his hands up and out (Zorba the Greek style) and move around the woman, in time to the beat, and every now and then, he should clap.
If that doesn’t make sense to you, and you’re already far away from the centre of gravity, then simply step away from the dancefloor.
.8. Men in their early 20s are a unique breed, something I’d not noticed when I was in my early 20s. A lot of testosterone, and not too much of anything else. They travel (& dance) in packs. I can’t imagine how I made it past 24 without realizing this.
.9. My mum really enjoyed herself and that was a treat to watch.
.2. Friday’s wedding was the nicest of the four thus far; it was at Chateau Vaudreille (am certain I spelled – spelt? -- that incorrectly) right outside of Montreal, and the ceremony was on the waterfront…just beautiful. The duration of the evening was an absolute riot; ran into some old friends I’d not seen in quite some time and that made for an amazing dinner. Laughed myself silly, tried to do the tango, learned to make birds out of napkins, did a lot of dancing, and enjoyed way too much salmon, cola and coffee until 2 a.m. (none of which I regret). Bride was gorgeous, groom was stressing & I can’t wait for them to come back from their honeymoon.
.3. Humidity does not become me…or my hair.
.4. Diamonds are not a girl’s best friend (sadly, neither are Manolos); bobby pins are.
.5. Came up against that dancing problem, yet again. This time, it was like dancing among live wire; too scared to shimmy this way or shake that way, in case I ran into one of the live wires and caught whatever it was they had. I think I know the secret to dancing well: the farther one is away from the centre of gravity, the less likely they will dance properly, or possess any rhythm. Naturally, the closer you are to the centre of gravity, the more rhythm God will have granted your small frame.
At one point, I thought one gentleman was actually (I kid you not) making fun of dancing…and so, he was dancing all weird like to prove that ‘funny’ dancing. Two and a half hours later, I realized he wasn’t kidding. I almost started crying.
.6. ‘Rhythm’ is a tricky word to spell.
.7. I said this on Friday night, and I will type this out now: When a woman is bellydancing, the male serves no purpose (other than as the receptor of seduction) outside of an accessory.
It should be as follows:
Women bellydance, men appear somber and clap.
Women bellydance, men get on their knees and clap. Women bellydance, men smile and clap.
A man should never, ever, ever try to match a female as she bellydances. At most, and I mean this seriously, a man should put his hands up and out (Zorba the Greek style) and move around the woman, in time to the beat, and every now and then, he should clap.
If that doesn’t make sense to you, and you’re already far away from the centre of gravity, then simply step away from the dancefloor.
.8. Men in their early 20s are a unique breed, something I’d not noticed when I was in my early 20s. A lot of testosterone, and not too much of anything else. They travel (& dance) in packs. I can’t imagine how I made it past 24 without realizing this.
.9. My mum really enjoyed herself and that was a treat to watch.
posted by just a girl at 11:58 PM
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