ERICA: Greg and I recently started trying to practice for our first dance. Thus far, we’re not exactly in any danger of being mistaken for Ginger and Fred.
“If you step on my toes I’m going to be madder than mad,” said Greg after I insisted that we practice while wearing my new Stuart Weitzmans.
“Well, why don’t you put on your shoes?!” I asked. He refused.
To complicate matters, our dog Oliver seems to have decided that every sway and dip is a full on physical assault which he deems punishable by loud barking, whining and jumping. I’m not sure who he thinks is attacking whom, but he clearly does not like to see mommy and daddy tripping the light fantastic.
We’ve spent the past two evenings looking to achieve the perfect mix of sweet/romantic/silly and have, thus far, only achieved weird/ awkward/ slightly embarrassing. I’m not sure if continuing to practice is making things better or worse, but we’ve committed to 10 minutes a night for the rest of the week regardless. Maybe I’ll go rent Flashdance for some inspiration.