Swing Weddings on Fire

So yesterday I was leaving work driving up 13th street when I saw smoke coming from behind a palm tree. I stopped to see a small fire that had been started not long before I got there. There was no one around, my cell was dead, and I didn't want to ruin my cardigan because it is a vintage wool cardigan from Mexico and I kinda have a strange attachment to it. So I stopped and began to consider my options when I noticed a girl in her car in the parking lot near the flames on her cell phone. I walked over to her to make sure she was calling 911 and not a booty call. It was the former. By the time this had all transpired- maybe five to eight minutes- the fire went from being the size of a small dinner plate to engulfing the side of the palm tree, the size of a large bush. Strangest comparisons ever. Well just as I could hear the fire truck siren begin to wail (the fire dept is three blocks away) a security guard came over and ran to get an extinguisher and began to extinguish the fire. I like to think I was helpful in extinguishing the fire, but really I just stood there concerned for my cardigan. I am a very responsible citizen.

My dad left work early yesterday to go back to Oceanside to help my mom pack up stuff from the house that the wedding was at. Bri and Michael rented the house for the wedding and for the whole week for their honeymoon, but they spent their first night in a B&B in La Jolla so my mom could clean up everything. Well I didn't really want to spend more gas going there and back so i stayed behind. Not wanting to be a loser and stay home twiddling my thumbs I did something that is very strange for me: I went Swing Dancing. There is a coffee house here in town that offers free swing dance lessons on Monday nights. The lessons go from 7-8 and then from 8-11 the floor is open for anyone to dance. I've gone once or twice before and had fun, but the alarming amount of weirdos kept me from going back. Well last night I went and there were not as many weirdos as I remember and I actually had fun. Ask anyone who knows me and they will emphatically tell you how I don't dance. I don't dance. I'm horrible. I don't just have two left feet, I've got about four of them and they all are dyslexic. I'm not even kidding. I do not dance. But last night I danced. I got victimized by three different guys who were all very understanding of my horrible disability on the dance floor, all very nice, all found something to compliment to make me feel less self conscious about how many times I tripped over my own feet (not to self: do not wear pointy toed shoes next week). I bonded with a girl over shoes, Portland and Seattle, and music. I just had fun. I messed up and apologized, and felt stupid, and blushed, and did something I was terrified to do and ended up being incredibly happy I did so. I'm going to start going every Monday for two reasons. The first is that I figure it can't hurt to try to overcome my inability to dance, and the second is because my mom was freaked out that I was out until ten twenty because I have become such a homebody. We determined I am a reluctant homebody because I have no life. Awesome.

Enough of my yacking. Here's some pictures from the wedding. Sorry for the amount. I couldn't choose just a few!