Raindrops on roses

Welcome to Kelly’s edition of “Oprah’s Favorite Things Episode!” I don’t use exclamation points lightly, so you KNOW this is going to be a treat.

Now that I’m a mature, wise 31, I feel I’m at the age where I’ve tried enough products and brands and I know what I love and what I have to have.

No, I’m not giving away any of these items to Aquarium Fan Club members. These are just my helpful tips for what to use if you want to be like me.

•Mascara: This one’s tricky because the brand I really love is Lancome. 

But at $25 a pop, I debate whether I’m worth spending the money. Who am I kidding? Of course I’m worth it. But as a mortgage payer, I’m trying to be more frugal these days. I used to be a drug store makeup girl because I couldn’t afford any of the department store brands. But since I got a new job and started making a little more money, I figured this face was worth the extra cash. Certain products I think are worth splurging on (liquid foundation, pressed powder, eye shadow, lipstick) and others I think you can get away with cheaper brands (eyeliner, blush, mascara).  And I’m a big ole slutbag for free gifts with purchase so I try to time my purchases around those events.

•Hair product: I don’t care who you are, every girl should be using some type of hair product. Especially as you get older, your hair changes and not usually for the good. I’m someone who has had, admittedly, great hair my whole life, and since I turned 30, it’s gone downhill. I see so many girls whose hair has potential, and I think “Girl, get thee to an Ulta and treat yo self to some product.” I’m the daughter of a hair product hoarder, so I’ve inherited a lot of products my mom has discarded. I try to use a different one every day so my hair never gets used to one.

My favorite product to comb through wet hair is Barex styling gel. It’s a little expensive (around $30) but it lasts a long time if you’re not using it every day.

My favorite heat styling product (what you put on your dry hair before you flat iron it) is from Rusk.

 

•Face lotion: Oil of Olay seems to work great for this face. Now that I’m over 30 and have smile lines, I’m on the search for the perfect eye cream so if anybody has any suggestions, send them my way!

•Hand lotion: Nivea from the circular white tub. When you dab some on your hands, it feels like your skin is literally drinking it. It has to be the one in the circular white tub though. I made the mistake of buying the blue tub lotion once and that one has a paste-like consistency.

Yoga pants: Gap with Danskin capris coming in a close second.

Powder: Clinique. Whether it’s pressed powder or mineral powder, I’m a Clinique girl. I’m going to have to find a new brand of mineral powder, however, since the Macy’s sales girl told me this week Clinique is discontinuing its mineral powder. CUE PANIC!

Website: Lately, it’s www.buzzfeed.com. I’m jealous of whoever came up with the concept of this website, which takes random topics and presents them in list form with pictures, GIF’s, videos and clever comments. Current headlines include “14 Ways People Fail at Basketball,” “32 Things You Might Not Know About London,” and “20 Great ‘Golden Girls’ Comebacks.”

Book: Hard to choose what my favorite of all time is. I’ll point you to my Goodreads page to see what I’ve been reading the past few years (and encourage you to sign up for Goodreads-a great way to see what your friends are reading and to get ideas for what to read yourself). I’m not sure if you can see this http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/4889810, without an account but give it a shot.

You’ll notice I’m currently reading “I’m Proud of You: My Friendship with Fred Rogers,” which caused me to be quite emotional on the train today. It’s written by a Texas journalist, who developed an intense friendship with Mr. Rogers after profiling him. The book is all about what it means to be a true friend to someone and loving someone as your friend unconditionally. After reading it during the commute this morning, it got me thinking about my own friendships and how I’ve approached them. I’m very proud to say I’ve had friendships where there is mutual unconditional love without judgment. I’m proud to say I’ve loved someone as a friend and been a friend to them even when they didn’t give me that love back, either because they didn’t have it in them or didn’t think I was worthy of it (still trying to figure out which one it was). OK, we’re getting too deep here. Read the book, you’ll see what I mean.

That book, combined with Florence and the Machine's "Shake it Out," and I was a hot pink mess on the Metra this morning. To make myself feel better, I post this picture of Florence Welch at the Grammy's. 

And ask you who she reminds you of. Could it be ... 

And yes, comparing these two photos is one of my favorite things. 

Fin. 

NPR

I’ll admit it. I’m a super, big-time, gigantic geek when it comes to National Public Radio. I listen to it in the car, and I subscribe to three podcasts that I listen to every day during my commute: American Public Media’s The Story, Fresh Air and This American Life. If Terri Gross or Ira Glass retire (these are serious concerns of mine) or quit, I honestly am not sure how my life will unfold.

Future husband. All we do is talk news, gossip about Chicago muckety mucks and drink wine. Lost of wine and talking and kissing. 

If I could choose one person to freeze time for, it would be TGross. I can't even handle when she's on vacation for  a week. 

Seventy-five percent of why I listen to NPR is because I think it’s one of the most trusted news sources out there. The other 25 percent is because listening to soothing voices while on the train or bus really makes the trek to and from Chicago more bearable.

My soothing voice fixation started when I lived in North Carolina. The superintendent of the school district I covered had his own TV show on public access. He would interview people within the district about their jobs. The camerawork was somewhat mystical, appearing as if there were a film over the lens. And his voice could put a colicky baby to sleep. His lips would smack ever so lightly and he would get some spittle on his tongue. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

I download a new episode of The Story and Fresh Air every day and a new one of This American Life every week. Most of them, I listen and delete. But there are a handful I’ve saved on my iPod to listen to during train naps, particularly because the voices are so soothing. Or sometimes because the subject matter is so interesting, I think I’ll want to hear it again. Here’s a rundown (get ready, it’s random):

•Gail Lumet Buckley. This is Lena Horne’s daughter, who appeared on Fresh Air to talk about a book she wrote about her mother. http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=126805290.

•Gary Shteyngart. He’s an author who was on Fresh Air promoting his new book “Super Sad True Love Story.” http://www.npr.org/2011/05/13/136240501/gary-shteyngart-a-love-story-in-a-sad-future.

•Robert and Dana Baer. Married couple who used to work for the CIA. They were on Fresh Air promoting their book, “The Company We Keep: A Husband-and-Wife True-Life Spy Story” (a book I highly recommend reading). Robert also wrote the book in which the movie “Syriana” is based and George Clooney played him. http://www.npr.org/2011/03/07/134330700/a-covert-affair-when-cia-agents-fall-in-love.

•David Dow. Author of “The Autobiography of an Execution.” Dow is a death penalty defense lawyer. www.npr.org/2010/02/08/123491414/20-years-of-defending-death-row-inmates.

•Michelle Williams. You may know her from “Dawson’s Creek,” but in this instance, she was discussing a TV movie she was in titled “Meek’s Cutoff.” And she gets super awkward talking about Heath Ledger. http://www.npr.org/2011/04/14/135206694/going-west-the-making-of-meeks-cutoff.

•Jess Goddell. A former Marine promoting her book on what it’s like to work in a military mortuary. http://www.npr.org/2011/06/21/137304590/death-and-after-in-iraq-memoir-of-a-mortuary.

•Jose Antonio Vargas. This is the Pulitzer Prize-winning New Yorker reporter who outed himself as an illegal immigrant in an article for the magazine. A pretty amazing story since he was able to get around the country with a fake ID and work as a journalist for The Washington Post and the New Yorker, among other big name publications. http://www.npr.org/2011/07/07/137648605/a-journalist-comes-out-as-an-illegal-immigrant.

•David Kennedy. A criminologist promoting his book on techniques used to get drugs off the street in various communities and how drugs wreak havoc on towns. http://www.npr.org/2012/11/09/164732917/interrupting-violence-with-the-message-dont-shoot.

•Barry Blitt. New Yorker cartoonist, who’s drawn such iconic images as the Obama’s fist bumping while wearing terrorist gear. http://www.npr.org/2012/02/20/146996406/new-yorker-cartoonist-imagines-washington-at-7.

•Oliver Sacks. The neurologist and author discussing his latest book, “Hallucinations.” And about how he used to trip out on acid and other drugs to see how his brain and body would react. http://www.npr.org/2012/11/06/164360724/oliver-sacks-exploring-how-hallucinations-happen.

•Barbara Streisand. No words. One of my favorites. http://www.npr.org/2012/12/17/166966172/guilt-trip-streisand-on-songs-films-and-family.

•Dianne Dwyer Modestini. This one has become a new favorite to listen to. Modestini was asked to clean and restore a painting, only to discover it was an original Leonardo Da Vinci. https://thestory.org/archive/20121228_The_Story__Discovering_Leonardo.mp3/view.

•Old Boys Network. This episode was on This American Life, which each week has a theme for which they come up with stories about. This one was about a hospital in Kermit, Texas, where the nurses tried to get rid of this doctor they felt was conducting malpractice. They ended up being clotheslined by local law enforcement, who was in cahoots with each other and the doctor.

•Breakups. I only listen to the last half of this episode of This American Life. They plan an interview from an 8-year-old, conducted on NPR about 20 years prior. The little girl had written the mayor of New York City a letter about her parents’ divorce, asking him to help. She was interviewed in present day and asked to reflect on that time and how much she’s changed and learned. The second part I listen to is a divorce lawyer discussing clients fighting over kids and assets and how most of them never reconcile.

Conventions: I looked for the last podcast I thought I had saved but I guess I deleted it. Which is OK, I guess, because it makes me cry every time I listen to it. It was a This American Life episode and one of the segments was about this couple who met at a convention. Love at first sight type of meeting. The world stops type of meeting.

They have a fast love affair, and fast-forward to a year or so later, and they’re both traveling to California to attend a Grateful Dead concert. Both had been battling the flu and were still getting over it. She heads home on a flight before him, and they have one of those epic goodbyes at the airport. She falls asleep on the plane and when the flight attendant went to wake her after they landed, she couldn’t. She was dead. The flu had attacked her heart and basically ate away at it. And NOW, this guy flies as much as he can because he feels closer to her when he’s in the air. Cue to me sobbing on the train when I first heard this story.

Gluttony

I realize I’ve been absent from the Aquarium for some time. Partly because I haven’t been inspired to write anything interesting. Mostly because the last entries I wrote, and some of my more entertaining entries in the past, were about Chach, and it’s still really hard to even think about him being gone, let alone reread what transpired over the last few months of his life. Today is one of the hardest days I’ve had in awhile (started randomly tearing up about him on the bus this morning) and I’m not sure why. I just miss that little face so much!

But, thanks to my boss’s recap from a conference she attended, where she was advised to spend five minutes each day doing SOMETHING creative, I’m back. For today.

I’ve had the opportunity to visit some really fantastic restaurants in the past few months. Some in Chicago and some in San Francisco, Napa, Calif., and New York City. I’m the geek who tries to order something different and then takes a picture of it.

Looking at pictures of food is like porn to me. So is watching “Barefoot Contessa,” but that’s also partly because I think Ina and Jeffrey do a great job at insinuating what’s to come in the bedroom after dinner.

“It’s Friday and Jeffrey’s driving in from the city. He DEMANDS that we have chicken on Fridays so I’m making roast chicken with thyme and lemon.”

(Ina smirks and raises her eyebrows).

“I just know he’s going to love it.”

Just look at Jeffrey. All he had done that day was drive his stupid BMW and think about cookies. Useless.

Wipe the drool off your face. Back to the Aquarium, where I’ll give a rundown of some of my favorite restaurants I’ve been to recently.

Sayat Nova: This one’s a favorite among the ADA News staffers. It’s an Armenian restaurant at Michigan and Ohio in Chicago. I hate gyros and am not a fan of lamb, so I was a little apprehensive when my boss chose it for her birthday lunch.

The menu wasn’t any more comforting, as Armenian kabobs are not the kabobs Jan and John Soderlund are grilling in Roselle. They’re more like a pita sandwich with meat and veggies. I settled on the trout stuffed with dill, cilantro, scallions and parsley. And I’ve thought about it ever since. It’s served with rice pilaf and is so light and flaky and lemony and herby and just a delightful lunch.

We went there again last week for a co-worker’s birthday and I ordered the same thing. Didn’t even open the menu. 

Aside from my love affair with the trout, the hummus at Sayat Nova is amazeballs. I recently made roasted red pepper hummus at home in my food processor, and there’s just no comparison. I decided to be sophisticated today and order Armenian coffee, which is the size and strength of espresso but all of the grounds sit at the bottom. “When it starts to get thick and grainy, you’re done,” my boss said. You’re then supposed to read your fortune, but we don’t deal in witchcraft here at the Aquarium.

The Sentinel: This is a sandwich shop in San Francisco I ordered lunch from while on a business trip. We were all stuck in the convention center office and needed to eat, so I offered to go pick up lunch. My boss stumbled upon this place through a Google search, so we decided to give it a try.

The address kind of says it all, 37 New Montgomery St. (at Stevenson Alley). It’s hard to even call it a shop, because The Sentinel is really just a storefront shack. But when I walked up, the line was around the block (into the alley), so I figured it must be good. It’s just a counter and a guy in the back making the sandwiches.  Their indescript website, www.thesentinelsf.com, doesn’t list any sides (but does have a photo of two random guys in a headlock) so my coworkers told me to just pick up whatever they had. And what they had was about five bags of barbecue chips. No other flavor, and there really seemed to be only five bags behind the counter.

But the sandwiches …ohhhhh the sandwiches. My boss ordered a veal and pork meatball sandwich that looked hearty and delightful while I stuck with an old faithful roast beef sandwich. One of the best I’ve ever had. The meat was pink and rare with some type of cheddar spread and horseradish sauce.

Sanraku: I’ve previously shouted from the rooftops that my all-time favorite sushi place is South Coast in the South Loop in Chicago. I’m ready to climb on the rafters again and proclaim Sanraku in San Francisco as my second favorite. This was an after-hours, “we’re all traveling on business together so we might as well share a civilized meal together” trip with three co-workers.

The restaurant is about as big as my bedroom, but the food more than makes up for the ambiance. The sushi tasted like my waiter took my order, hopped on the trolley to Fisherman’s Wharf to catch my dinner then beamed himself back to serve it. So. Fresh.

My co-workers got a little crazy and each ordered the saki sampler; a drink I can’t get on board with unless I’ve had many other drinks before. I was Debbie Downer and ordered a Sapporo beer.

Fish Story: This is a cute little restaurant on the river in downtown Napa, Calif. Moogs, Lauren and I lunched there before heading up the mountain in St. Helena to taste some wines (and prior to little Moogs getting sick in the back seat of the cab from all the winding mountain driving).

Fish Story is like many restaurants in California in that they serve “sustainable” and “farm fresh” food. California restaurants are all about you believing you are putting natural, won’t cause cancer food in your body. Fish Story is less my story and more Lauren’s tale. This was the site of the BEST SANDIWCH EVER, according to Ms. Franciose. I think it was some type of shrimp salad BLT. I didn’t have a bite but I trust such an orgasmic reaction. And honestly, I can’t even remember what I ordered. Lauren’s reaction has trumped my memory.

RPM: This is the new hot celebrity restaurant in Chicago. It’s partly owned by Bill and Giuliana Rancic (of “The Apprentice” and E! fame) and it’s a chi-chi Italian restaurant in River North. I was skeptical given the hype, celebrity attachment and that it was Italian (It’s rare that I LOVE Italian food in a restaurant). RPM is also mostly small plates; a fad in restaurants I wish would go away. I want my own meal and don’t want to share!

I went this summer with a group of girls and kept it real by ordering spaghetti and meatballs. Now, I have the mom who makes the best meatballs in the world so this was going to be a tough cage match. And, I have to say, RPM’s are some of the best meatballs I’ve had at a restaurant. I brought my mom there over Christmas and she reluctantly concurred.

Il Cortile: While I’m talking about Italian restaurants, I can’t not mention the best Italian meal I’ve had out. Il Cortile is one of the dozens of Italian restaurants in Little Italy in New York City. If you’ve ever been, you know it’s hard to choose which one to dine at. Guys stand outside with their (possibly fake) Italian accents telling my “beautiful face to just come inside and give us a try.” It’s hard to pick! Luckily, when my mom and I visited New York last year, her boss recommended Il Cortile and we loved it.

So we went back a few weeks ago when we filmed “Kelly and Janice Take New York Part Deux.” I ordered the same thing as last year, spaghetti Bolognese, and we ordered two meatballs as an appetizer and man it was good. I ate until I almost threw up, and we immediately retired to the hotel for a post-gluttony slumber.

Quality Meats: Random name for a restaurant, right? Almost stupid, like you are going to the butcher? I agree, and I almost didn’t click on the link when I Googled “best steakhouses in New York City,” but I’m so glad I did. This one’s on 58^th Street near Central Park and where my mom and I dined our first night in NYC this year. It was the last night the ADA was footing the bill for my meals, so I decided to go balls out (exceeding my $85 per diem rate).

The restaurant is sleek and dimly lit and …oh, I’ll get right to why I’m writing this post: they make your freakin’ steak sauce at the table. Like, mortar pestal style. What’s in it? In my “I’ve been drinking red wine all night and just ordered another bottle” state, all I remember is fresh thyme. But I do remember it being delightful. 

Not that my steak needed it. Perfectly medium rare and just melted in my mouth (to be cliché). Which is fitting since I’ve learned from the steak cook-off that Barefoot Contessa and Jeffrey had that most steakhouses sear their steaks on the stove before putting them in the oven with a pad of butter on top. Jeffrey grilled his and was NONE too pleased Ina won the challenge.

Maison: This is a lovely French bistro in Midtown Manhattan that has become a staple for the Soderlund girls’ NYC trip. Cappuccinos and complimentary beignets. Enough said.

That’s enough for now. My signature sin of gluttony will continue …

Keep this face in your thoughts!

I don't mean to turn this into a cat lady blog but just a short note to keep this little face in your prayers.

He had a relapse on Sunday and took another trip to the emergency vet. Of course it happened after I didn't spend a night at home, making me wish this was just Chach having a panic attack over my absence but knowing that might not be the case. I came home Sunday morning to find his breathing was a little off. It started getting worse as time went on, and after a house call from my mom, we thought it best Chach have another expensive Sunday Funday at the vet.

His breathing was very labored, and he had more fluid in his chest. By the time we left the vet, you could see him physically try to breathe and at some points, he was open mouth panting. It was really scary. After some injections of a diuretic meant to drain the fluid from him (making him drink a ton of water and use the men's room a lot) and an antibiotic, and a few doses of each since in pill and liquid form, Chach is doing MUCH better.

The bad news is, the vets are worried it might not have been pneumonia after all-he might have a heart condition. So, in typical Chach diva fashion, he now has a cardiologist who's going to do an ultrasound on his heart to determine what the problem is. There are a few promising signs it doesn't have to do with his heart. 1.) Where he's retaining fluid is more consistent with pneumonia than with heart disease. 2.) His vet took him off the heart medicine (a diuretic meant to drain the fluid) within two days of his first episode and he still cleared up and was given a clean bill of health by the vet after only being on antibiotics. 3.) And here's where it gets sensitive. Chach's vet, the handsome Dr. Joe, ever so kindly implied that Chach might be too fat to have heart disease. Typically, cats are thinner or lose weight drastically. We all know Chach has been encouraged to apply for "The Biggest Feline Loser."

So, for now, I wait until his appointment on the 28th and hope the cardiologist has a cancellation so she can see him sooner. Until then, it's a pill twice a day and liquid antibiotics twice a day (and a 15-minute earlier wake-up time for me in order to fit wrestling a cat down to drug it into my morning schedule). Chach has returned to Mr. Fabulous status and has a humidifier running in my room when he's sleeping; his food in my room and in the kitchen so he doesn't have to walk far; me feeding him wet food from my fingers; water on all levels of my house; and his litter box in my room so he doesn't have to go far to use the latrine.

Based on the meltdown I had Sunday over this and the anxiety I've felt since, I've determined I will be a crazy lady mom if I ever have kids.

Sick kitty

I had a bad bad bad scare with Chach this month.

I was in San Francisco on business, and my mom was watching Chach at her house. I would do my crazy mommy phone calls several times a day asking how he was, and she kept mentioning he was acting like he had a cold. Sleeping a lot. Not very active.

The day before I came home, her tone changed to one that was more worrisome. “He definitely has a cold.” As far as I knew, the only thing you can really do for a cat with a cold is let it ride out. My mom mentioned she was going to my house to pick up some more can food, since he wasn’t touching his dry food. I suggested she pick up some of his babies (Tweety Bird, Mr. Whiskers, Harley the Hedgehog) so he could play with them, but she said, “I don’t think he’s up for playing.”

My flight was scheduled to arrive around midnight on Sunday night/Monday morning so the original plan was to go home and pick Chach up from my parents’ house in the morning. “We’re on our way to get your car so you can just come here from the airport. Chach needs to see you tonight,” my mom said. “Is he OK?” “Yeah, he’s OK, he just misses you. But, wake me up when you get home.”

I knew something was wrong, but I immediately went into my “happy place” so I could get through the next two days. I was done with work around 10 a.m. on Sunday, so I tried to get on a standby flight in the afternoon, to no avail. Spent the whole day reading “Gone Girl” at the airport (which, if you have to be stuck in an airport, San Francisco’s is really the one to be at. Visiting other airports makes me realize how completely insane and chaotic O’Hare is).

I got to my parents’ house around 12:30 a.m.  I woke my mom up and asked where Chach was and if he was OK. “No, he’s not. He has pneumonia.”

Apparently, my mom noticed Chach was having trouble breathing Saturday morning. He was standing on the bed, looking as if he was going to throw up or cough up a hairball. She took him to my brother’s vet (Chach’s medical team was closed), they did a chest X-ray, and his lungs were almost entirely filled with fluid. They said they “hoped it was pneumonia” but that it could be heart disease. They gave him a few shots, two kinds of medicine and handed my mom the number of an emergency overnight vet, saying, “He may not make it through the night.”

My mom went into mommy overdrive and put Chach to bed with a humidifier in his room, checking on him every half hour. He was barely eating or drinking anything.

I don’t know about you, but when I’m sick, I want my mom and that was no different with Chach. When I got home, I scooped him up and he just nuzzled into me, meowing and purring. The fantastic thing was that within a half hour of me being home, he started eating and drinking again.

I was off work the next two days and basically just played kitty nurse. He had to take one pill a day for the possibility it might be heart disease and one liquid dose of antibiotics. The pill had to be shoved down his throat and the liquid had to be shot into his mouth through a syringe. If you’ve never had to give a cat medicine, consider yourself extremely lucky because it’s exhausting and frustrating. Plus, I was an absolute mess at the thought of him being in pain, discomfort or losing him altogether.

I talked to Chach’s vet the next day and had his chart and X-rays sent over from baby Pickles’ (Danny’s cat) vet. The vet looked them over and said it really didn’t look like heart disease to him, so he took Chach off one medicine and said if he continued to get better, he should come back to get re-checked in two weeks.

Chach was very lethargic for a few days; so much so that I was really worried he wouldn’t bounce back. He was too weak to take more than a few steps before lying down, and I had to hand feed him his wet food so he would eat something. 

Chach resting in my closet, hoping his sponsors, Nike and Puma, don't drop him because of his bout with pneumonia.

After texting a friend of a friend who’s a vet and asking what’s “normal” in terms of lethargy in kitty cat pneumonia patients, Chach soon started to resume normal naughty behavior. This includes trying to tear the loose threads off the bottom of my mattress and insisting he can only eat by being hand fed, even though his strength was back and he could clearly eat on his own.

He’s still taking the liquid medicine and it’s lovely to administer since half of it ends up on my shirt and the other half Chach likely spits out as he foams at the mouth. I have chewable pills he can take instead but with his refined palette (Chach only eats food that contains duck or rabbit-not kidding), he takes a few licks before looking up at me as if to say, “Tastes like drugs.” I can crush it and mix it in with wet food, but Chach does the same thing: takes a bite or two, gives it a few licks and looks at me like “Tastes like drugs.” Last night, I mixed it in with tuna and that seemed to go over better.

We go back to the vet on Friday and I’m hoping hoping hoping Chach receives a clean bill of health!

Flash mob video

For those who get the blog emailed to them, the video link won't show up in the email. You have to visit the blog website, I think.

Flash mob: Gangnam style

I crossed something off the old bucket list this past weekend: participate in a flash mob.

My good friend and roommate from college Amy and her lover Pete got married this past weekend. A few weeks ago at Amy's bachelorette party, there was apparently a discussion about doing a flash mob at their wedding (a discussion I may very well have taken part in but have no memory of-damn strippers!).

No strippers here but this picture is too kick ass not to share.

Amy's good friend Lynn sent a group of us an email suggesting we do a secret flash mob to "Gangnam Style."

Being an old lady these days, and someone who's barely in the car since I take the train to work every day, I had heard the song briefly but didn't know it was a little bit of a phenomenon, and certainly didn't know there was a choreographed dance to it.

Being a dancer, and recognizing she may be dealing with an uncoordinated bunch, Lynn was kind of enough to create a series of video tutorials on how to do the dance. I tried practicing on my own one night but deemed the event too sober and quit until I had some company.

Luckily, Sarah and Chad stayed with me the night before the wedding and after putting Chad to bed and a bottle of wine, Sarah and I thought we conquered the first section.

There were rumors of an impromptu practice session in a secret location at the hotel where the reception was, but the Wardall 7 crew took matters into our own hands the only way we know how: by buying a lot beer and pre-drinking in our hotel room before the reception while practicing.

We took our potent potables down to the secret practice location—in the hotel basement next to a bank of elevators. Lynn led us in a few run throughs, told the uncoordinated bunch (including me) we could just rock jazz hands when we didn't know the moves, and handed out some glow in the dark sunglasses, courtesy of Amy's sister and maid of honor.

The plan was for the DJ to cue up the music during the salad portion of dinner, after all of the toasts. Lynn would be on the dance floor by herself and dance the first two sections alone while the rest of us walked to the floor. Here's what transpired:

It was pretty amazing. There were close to 25 of us, and you can see Amy's mom on the far left and possibly her grandma, equally rocking out.

This obviously moves me closer to my ultimate goal of learning the entire "Thriller" dance. It still remains on the bucket list.