Let Me Tell You a Little Story About the Night I Went Clubbing.

My sister, Brittany (the blond fox below) turned 30 last weekend.  (GASP!!)  Since it's against the law to have any fun after you turn 30, she wanted to live her last night of youth having a good time.  

She wanted to go country dancing.  

And she wanted me to go with her.

I said no.  She begged.  

I said no again.  She pleaded.  

I said absolutely not.  She gave me the silent treatment.  

I said heck no.  She gave me a guilt trip.  

I said not a chance.  She promised it would be fun.  

I said NO.  She told me she would disown me.  

So, against every reasonable fiber of my being, I went country dancing.  

Me.  

The very-much-married, can't dance, not-at-all-single, city-raised, mother of three.  

I swore I would not dance with anyone.  

ANY. ONE.

I made that extremely clear.  

And I stuck to my guns.  

And then an adorable 75 year old man (think the old man in "Up") asked if he could "push me 'round the floor."  

You kiddin' me partner?  

ANY. TIME.

He regretted asking about 8 seconds in.  Around the same time that I may have broken his big toe.  

And I looked like a darn fool.   

 

But at least my 30 year-old sister didn't disown me. 

Happy Birthday, Britt.