Dancing in the Street

October 4, 2010 § 2 Comments

Hey Mambo!

I think it was the shag.

There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good festival, preferably one celebrating some ancestry.  Because when your heritage is on the line, I find you whoop it up more than if you’re toasting say, peaches or pigs.  So this weekend, when Greg suggested we check out the Italian Festival in downtown Columbia, it was on like Donkey Kong.

The wouldgies were a little whiny at first, complaining about the loooong drive and the loooong time it took to find a parking place, but my hopes were high.  Oh, they did not disappoint, my little offspring.  

Me:  “Hey guys, they have cannoli!”


They’re so easy, sometimes.

And Greg?  By nature, this is not his bag.  He’s not one to dance with strangers (or his wife) in the street or invite the lady selling food tickets to our house for the Feast of St. Joseph.  He’s not prone to weeping when the band strikes up Louis Prima standards.  He didn’t bump into a single cousin.  But he’s there, smiling.

§ 2 Responses to Dancing in the Street

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