Cinderella day

I spent the morning vacuuming, painting mouldings, and polishing brass. I spent the evening at the Belfast Jazz Orchestra Christmas dance, all dolled up in a little red dress with a santa hat. Yet again, no photo.

I really enjoy hanging out with the Swing Belfast crowd. When I first went to swing dance lessons and socials, I would have been: self conscious, insecure, awkward, and not too great at engaging people in conversation. That is my typical strategy in any social situation. Now I’ve gotten to know the swing dance groupies, I’m relaxed, comfortable, sociable. I’m so grateful for this transformation because it makes the difference between enjoying a night out and feeling like it’s an ordeal.

Yesterday I was at my friend Sophie’s for a holiday open house. Her friends are really interesting and easy to chat to so this was another successful social outing. I met one couple where the wife was from Richmond Virginia (where I lived from 1970-74) and the husband was from Derry (1974-80). We enjoyed comparing notes on the differences between N.I. and the US and between Belfast and Derry. Another man I chatted to for a while grew up on a farm in Castlewellan. His dad is a cousin to my friend Aelish’s dad. I knew Aelish was from Castlewellan so I wasn’t surprised they were related. He told me the film I saw about how calves are taken from their mothers at birth isn’t true in NI. He said they would milk for the first 2-3 months then be raised for beef. He said the mothers aren’t killed after six years. With misty eyes, he remembered #33, who lived to 18. “She was a lovely cow.” I get it that NI dairy isn’t as brutal as large-scale American dairies. I just don’t like the idea of impregnating a cow over and over so she can be milked year in, year out until she goes to the slaughterhouse.
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