A shout out to the Dance Party crew

The ladies catching their internet debut. [Yes, Tandaina, it is a MacBookPro.]

It seems the gentlemen heading the Dance Party troupe have issued some kind of challenge to my daughters here. (See the comment thread here.) Mlle Belle, being a southern belle, was rather taken aback at the thought of a challenge. Competition seems quite beneath her and just a trifle vulgar. I assured her it was just a friendly thing from a couple of very nice but macho Latin males (well Mr Red Peanut Bank may be simply Latin-influenced, but it has to rub off on him sooner or later). I was not quite sure how to interpret the steel-magnolia-ensconced-in-plush look I got at that point and let the matter drop. Maggie has always been in charge of picnics and suggested a lovely midday fiesta.

They have, however, taken the issue of pictorial adventures in the South under advisement and send warm regards to Mr Red Peanut Bank, Gallito Mescalito, and the entire dance party crewe (here it would be krewe), most especially Miss Egyptian Hippo of Love (from one river horse to another).

There was a loudly whispered comment (preceded by a snort) about daddies who work, work, work and don't spend enough time playing with their kids. Maybe on the weekend....

(Lord, daughters can work the guilt trips on their old dads!)

--the BB