My girlfriend M came over with her beau last night for bbq'd shrimp, mushrooms, and corn on the cob.
The men did the cookin' and M & I did some cookin' of our own.
I put on Natacha Atlas' Ayeshteni album & we swirled around in our long skirts, feeling the vibe of the eclectic chanteuse. Natacha Atlas is like Indo-European techno in the casbah. She sings primarily in Arabic, but some of the songs are in French, some in English. I like the song Soleil d'Egypte best of all-- it's like the sun heating up the streets of Cairo. So romantic, so good for dancing. And M is great good fun to dance with-- she was my first dance partner. We did a duet two winters ago for a sold-out crowd at Sam Bond's, and we raised the roof. We nailed it. Timing is everything.
We started out in the same beginning Middle Eastern dance class three years ago. Since then, she has become a terrible slacker about attending class, even though she moves beautifully and can cast a spell on the most jealous audience. Technically, I kick her ass, but I have this unresolved issue of stage fright that she seems to redirect rather than let it intimidate her. I showed her some new moves I've learned, and she admitted she hadn't even been practising at home anymore. I scolded her and flirted with her & we played with some fun, simple, traditional moves.
She is a huge flirt, and I don't know if it's subconscious or not but she makes these porn-star faces when she dances, very oh so sexy, very come-hither. Especially during the racy "Habibi, oh, oh!" song. Too sassy. My mom called her a snake, which tickles me greatly because M is one of the sweetest, kindest women I know. She's just, well, sexy. She has a great mane of burgundy hair & always wears a long full skirt with a tiny little top, and was delighted to show me her new nipple piercing that matches her belly-button loop. In the winter she wears full-length fur coats and knee-high boots. She is a ferocious beastie, but not really. I told her she has to start coming to class.
We danced for half an hour, and the men told us to get ready for dinner. It was much fun. It was hot and sweaty, it was good dancing and then good food. Over dinner we discussed God, and politics, and life in general.
It was a nice end to a good weekend.
The men did the cookin' and M & I did some cookin' of our own.
I put on Natacha Atlas' Ayeshteni album & we swirled around in our long skirts, feeling the vibe of the eclectic chanteuse. Natacha Atlas is like Indo-European techno in the casbah. She sings primarily in Arabic, but some of the songs are in French, some in English. I like the song Soleil d'Egypte best of all-- it's like the sun heating up the streets of Cairo. So romantic, so good for dancing. And M is great good fun to dance with-- she was my first dance partner. We did a duet two winters ago for a sold-out crowd at Sam Bond's, and we raised the roof. We nailed it. Timing is everything.
We started out in the same beginning Middle Eastern dance class three years ago. Since then, she has become a terrible slacker about attending class, even though she moves beautifully and can cast a spell on the most jealous audience. Technically, I kick her ass, but I have this unresolved issue of stage fright that she seems to redirect rather than let it intimidate her. I showed her some new moves I've learned, and she admitted she hadn't even been practising at home anymore. I scolded her and flirted with her & we played with some fun, simple, traditional moves.
She is a huge flirt, and I don't know if it's subconscious or not but she makes these porn-star faces when she dances, very oh so sexy, very come-hither. Especially during the racy "Habibi, oh, oh!" song. Too sassy. My mom called her a snake, which tickles me greatly because M is one of the sweetest, kindest women I know. She's just, well, sexy. She has a great mane of burgundy hair & always wears a long full skirt with a tiny little top, and was delighted to show me her new nipple piercing that matches her belly-button loop. In the winter she wears full-length fur coats and knee-high boots. She is a ferocious beastie, but not really. I told her she has to start coming to class.
We danced for half an hour, and the men told us to get ready for dinner. It was much fun. It was hot and sweaty, it was good dancing and then good food. Over dinner we discussed God, and politics, and life in general.
It was a nice end to a good weekend.
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