A couple weekends ago two of my good friends came up from the cities to visit for the weekend. I cannot stress enough how much of a good time this was. Delicious meals! Saunas! Rampaging on toboggans down sledding hills stuffed with 7 year olds! However, I would say my personal highlight of the weekend was the "square dance" I talked them into attending with me. It was held in a town about an hour south of Ely that's so small it's not actually incorporated, and is more like a clump of people living in the woods very far away from any other towns. We put on our dancing shoes. We found directions to a town that Google says doesn't exist. We showed up. We started square dancing. We gradually realized that it was not the open-to-the-public square dance I had thought it was, but was actually a retirement party/dance for a woman none of us knew. "Standing out" doesn't quite do justice to what we were doing there. It took me longer to come around to this realization than my friends, which was embarrassing for a couple reasons. Namely, it made me realize that my social life is such that I can no longer tell the difference between gate-crashing a retirement party and a typical Saturday night (actually an above-average Saturday night).
Not to be stopped, we had a great time. We danced many polkas. We waltzed with elderly men in suspenders. We took home commemorative Smokey the Bear teaspoons shaped like shovels as party favors (I actually took two- ask me about them some time). We exchanged warm goodbyes and congratulations with the women whose party it was.
And, best of all, while driving home an enormous white wolf crossed the road in front of us, then stood majestically on the side of the road for a few moments while we slammed on the brakes and shrieked and backed up for a better look and just generally freaked out. Best Saturday ever?
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