So, ok, those of you who know me probably know my propensity for what I like to call “friendly wagers”. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose, and sometimes when I lose, it works out ok, too.
Take The Log Book Bet. Last year, Tom found himself having to slog down to the FAA for some reason or another, and he found himself in the unenviable position of having to transfer all his flight time from his Palm to his actual log book. Seems the FAA doesn’t accept PDA databases (gee, imagine that, a federal agency that is a little behind the technological curve, who’d have thunk it?) I remember the night well; I made a vindaloo. He filled out his log book, pissing and moaning the whole time (except for when he ate the food, that’s what so cool about cooking for someone like Tom- he responds to every dish with “That’s EXCELLENT”, although in this case, it really was pretty good.)
At one point he looked up at me and said, “Don’t EVER let me get this behind in my log book again!” Excuse me, did I slip and fall, get married, and turn into an old Italian housewife whose job is to cook and make certain her husband’s every need gets fulfilled instantly and without thought?
No matter, instead of taking him seriously, I offhandedly comment that if he manages to keep his log book up to date through the end of the year (2005), I would learn to belly dance. I am about as coordinated as a kitten on a windsurfer and would rather have a colo-rectal exam in front of a group of med students than dance for anyone, so I think most of you understand that I figured this for an easy bet.
Did you ever see Guys and Dolls? I’d like to foreshadow the rest of this tale with an excerpt from the movie:
“One of these days in your travels, a guy is going to show you a brand-new deck of cards on which the seal is not yet broken. Then this guy is going to offer to bet you that he can make the jack of spades jump out of this brand-new deck of cards and squirt cider in your ear. But, son, do not accept this bet, because as sure as you stand there, you’re going to wind up with an ear full of cider.”
Yup. On January 1, 2006, I had to learn to belly dance. I talked him into hula dancing, but then stalled until last night (yes, I know what month it is, thank you), when I found a group in the Pinellas Park area. It was, as I expected, a pretty odd group, but it was pretty cool, too. I love the music and have always loved Pacific dance- hula dances all tell a story, and if you’ve ever watched a group of hula dancers its generally a pretty soothing dance form.
Moving my feet and arms independent of one another poses a bit of a problem, but it WAS my first time and all. And we were on somebody’s screened it back porch, mosquitoes feeding on us at will despite the screening, kids cutting through, and really not quite enough room to move. Still, I had a good time, and I think I was the youngest one there (something that used to bother me but I take vain pleasure in more and more as time passes).
I’m going back next week. When I get a grass skirt to go with my coconut shell bra, I’ll let ya know. Right now I gotta flush the cider out of my ear; it’s attracting bugs.
