Belly Dancing Birthday Party

 

This morning Travalon and I met Tiffy and Jilly Moose for coffee, then we walked to the Union but it's closed until Monday, so we walked up Langdon Street. Travalon left to go to a Badger Basketball game, while we ladies continued on to the Edgewater. We were watching little kids ice skate (it was a 9th birthday party) when an employee joked that he could hit a kid with a snowball, which one did we want? We talked to him a bit, then suddenly he pointed at Jilly Moose and said, "Are you a Moose?" We were all caught off-guard, since her last name is not a common one, but it turned out he went to school with her brother, and he thought she looked just like her brother. I hadn't noticed that, but I do know she looks a lot like her mother. Then we walked back to State Street and had lunch at the Globe. They gave me a free dessert for my birthday!

Jilly Moose had to leave for work, so Tiffy and I hung out at her sister's apartment and then got bubble tea just as Travalon came back from the game, so he got some too. Then we went to Leopold's, and the same bartender was there, so we discussed with her what would be a good pandan ice cream drink. We decided on one with vanilla ice cream and vanilla liqueur, so she made a sample one in case it wasn't that good, but it was so delicious that we all decided to have one. We were coming up with names for it, and two of the bartenders liked my idea "Pandanic at the Disco" (there's a band called Panic at the Disco) and one liked my idea "Mr. Pandman, Bring Me a Dream." Tiffy suggested Pandantastic, and we had some other ideas that I can't remember right now. The drinks were a beautiful green.

Then we went over to Rich's house to help him prepare for my birthday party. Mamastep, R Van the Terrible, the Dairyman's Daughter, Kathbert, Cecil Markovitch, and the guy who makes wonderful desserts and his son all came too. Rich made chicken parmesan, and R Van brought broccoli and cauliflower that Cecil cooked in some way that they tasted AMAZING (I guess a ton of butter and garlic, and he charred them), and Mamastep made a salad. Rich made black magic cake, and the dessert guy made a tres leches cake. Somehow the topic of coffee that goes through civets came up, and Kathbert said it was "Number Two Brew" or something like that, but the best part was that it took Rich a minute to get it. I personally have never had coffee pooped out by a weasel, but Cecil claims he has tried it and that it's not that great. He gave Travalon and me matching Croatian hats, and then he whipped out his own.

It's some kind of Croatian sausages. I guess I'm an honorary Croatian now! 

There were so many blog post titles I thought of today, but now I can't think of any of them except Number Two Brew, and something Tiffy and I were talking about at coffee this morning: on the record Chicago XVII, some songs were by James Pankow and published by Make Me Smile Music, and I liked them. The bigger hits were by Peter Cetera and published by Double Virgo Music, and I didn't like them. I said they were both stupid names for music publishing companies, but what would we call ours? Travalon said something about washed-up wrestlers, so then I thought of Washed-Up Laundress Music. Oh yeah, that's right! Mamastep gave Kathbert, Tiffy, and me a belly dancing lesson before dinner, and one move was "snake arms," which she said really helps with the "chicken arms." So I said, "Snake arms kill chicken arms! That would be a good blog post title!" I will note that Travalon and Cecil seemed to really enjoy watching this lesson, and Travalon helpfully found some Moroccan music for us to dance to. 

I just ran the potential blog post titles by my focus group (Travalon), and we're going with "Belly Dancing Birthday Party." Maybe I should actually take some lessons. It's so good for your core muscles!

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A Post Not About Food or Beer

Hardingfele says all I ever blog about is food and beer, but today I am going to blog about something completely different: tobacco. Tiffy came up this weekend, and among the things we did to celebrate her birthday was go to the Hookah Lounge and smoke a hookah. We got mint chocolate chip-flavored tobacco, which I did not like quite as well as the flowery flavors, like rose and jasmine, but it was still good. Travalon, Tiffy, and I attempted to blow smoke rings, but we had no luck with this venture.

We got to the Hookah Lounge just in time for the belly dancing show, and the girl danced with a sword and with long things on her fingers set on fire, which she put out with her mouth at the end of that dance. The waitress asked how we liked the show afterwards, and I realized I have seen quite a bit of belly dancing for not being all that interested in the art form. Part of it is having played in not one but two Mideastern bands that had belly dancers accompanying them. That is how I met Mamastep; she has done belly dancing and is always up for seeing it. If I had to pick a favorite kind of dancing, maybe it would be that Javanese dancing they do to gamelan music, although it’s hard to beat watching a really good couple dance to salsa. I’d rather be doing the dancing than watching it, but nobody would want to watch me dance! 

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A Dark and Stormy Night in the 'Hood

On a dark and stormy night, two chicks drove deep into the 'hood. A-Fooze and I had spent the early evening dancing on the roof to salsa music until we could barely walk: we danced to merengue, bomba, guaguanco, bachata, and cumbia... but if you think I know how to actually do all those dances, I must admit I was just kind of moving to the music. We stopped by A-Fooze's place briefly, and when we left it was suddenly storming so we had to run to my car at Our Lady of Perpetual Sobriety, then we drove to a hookah club in the 'hood to meet some of my bandmates. We didn't see any of them, but I did see another friend of mine who told me the belly dancing style was "tribal fusion." The dancer had different props, like a fan, a sword, and flaming things on her fingers that (this was my favorite part of the show) set off the fire alarm. Everyone panicked that the sprinklers would go off, but A-Fooze and I just shrugged since we were already soaked from the storm. When the waitress asked what we thought of the belly dancer, I replied that this was my first time seeing tribal fusion. Later A-Fooze was saying that she loved how I used that phrase like I had any idea what I was talking about, and I said, "Better yet, I didn't even have to give an opinion of the show!"

That was Friday night. Thursday night at Messiah practice I got the best news I'd heard since learning that reggaeton is on the way out: we will be performing with a harpsichord! And NOBODY tunes harpsichords to equal temperament, so it looks like we will be spared that public humiliation at the fronds of my dracaena. Afterwards a bunch of us went to a swanky hotel for drinks, but when I ordered a gin fizz, the waiter said, "They can't make a proper one here. Trust me, I'm from New Orleans!" I believed him, because - other than reggaeton - very little is worse than getting a drink called a "gin fizz" which bears no resemblance to the actual Gin Fizz. However, I had no Plan B so I panicked and ordered a root beer.

Charlie my boy bunny had a fever this weekend, but as he got better, I developed a bad cold. Sunday a bunch of my friends went hiking, but I could barely get out of bed. Yesterday I called in sick to work and sat around having a pity party for myself. Ugh! TWO summer colds in one summer! I tried to get some fresh air on my balcony, but after a few minutes a dozen yellow jackets ascended like tiny helicopters and swarmed around me. One landed right on the top of my head - and stung me!! I ran inside to put some onion on the sting... and the yellow jacket was clinging to my leg! I smacked it and it fell to the floor, stunned. Then I finished it off with my salsa dancing shoe. After that I was a geniune sorehead, on top of being sniffly and sneezy. Fortunately Charlie felt the proper amount of sympathy for me and sat kissing me as I lay on the floor in utter wretched misery. See, this is why I live with rabbits instead of a man.

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