So the man I love came home from work yesterday with a printout from a co-worker with all kinds of venues and vendors on it. Exciting! These were people his co-worker had used for his daughter’s wedding and bat mitzvah. Great! The man I love mentioned his favorite item on the list: the Jewish bottle dancers. Like in Fiddler. Like to perform at our wedding, I wondered out loud? Like at a certain point at our wedding men show up and dance with bottles on their head? The man I love said that anyone who didn’t like bottle dancers didn’t like having fun and should be kicked out of the wedding. I asked when would these bottle dancers be performing, during dinner? After our first dance? He said maybe he hadn’t totally thought it out. I said that was ok, and we were thinking it out right now. Then I started laughing really hard for about five minutes. Bottle dancers.
I had a long conversation with my dental technician about this later that day (we had spent some time talking about her son’s bar mitzvah). Her expression was priceless. “For a birthday, maybe,” she said, “For a wedding, no.” She said it, not me. I may be kicked out of my own wedding.
