To the Ball dear....

Weather: Cool gusts blowing mixtures of rain and snow directly into your eyes, regardless of which direction you turn your body. Who doesn’t love February in Northern Europe…?

CD: Toadies - Rubberneck (classic)

I spent last night in the arms of my roomate Jan, who was trying (in vain) to teach me how to ballroom dance. Hours went by and all I heard was 1-2-3 1-2-3 as my feet fumbled through the Vienna Waltz. My rigid body finally fell into the right rhythm just in time for Jan to move on to the next dance: the Foxtrot. 1-2-3 1-2-3 again and again, this step with a bit of creativity available in liu of the rigid procedures. I’m not sure if that will help me or not when it comes down to it.

Saturday night I will be attending the Ball with Hilmar and his family and all the other noble members of the Hannover social life. Thus, the dancing lessons. My goal is to not make an ass of myself. I’ll be sure to include a full report of any predicaments that should ocurr.

Serious props to Jan for showing me the steps and bringing me under his wing (literally). I enjoyed dancing with him as much as could be possible and would strongly recommend the experience to any girl who should have the opportunity to do so (watch his left hand when he spins you though!). I can only imagine what the neighbors were thinking. Or perhaps I don’t want to. I’m off to dream of the Ball. 1-2-3 (turn) 1-2-3…