Dance Party

Yesterday at work, I implemented a new concept. When I suddenly and very loudly call out, "dance Party,"  everybody, I mean all of us, pauses  whatever else  they're doing for a second or two and DANCES! 
Today  I called a sudden dance party,and  I am pleased to announce that we achieved 100% participation.  Yeah!
Some other happenings in the 'hood-Wizzie was grumpy, but brought me a huge bag of veggies from her garden! She eventually snapped out of her funk and we had so much fun.
Zippy was flyin' because her cabana boy woke up early with her this morning and she got her espresso on. 
Dallas just returned from her weekend and was in a very happy place
There were a few choruses of, "b*tch, ...PLease!"  We've got to keep those people in line somehow. 
On a more serious note, Oatmael Jim is in the hospital.  Jim  has a dear friend that lives here in town, but no immediate family members. So, after work, we three piled into Wizzie's car to go visit him in the ICU.  Remembering as we were approaching the entrance to the hospital, that often times relatives are the only visitors allowed in the ICU, I told the girls that they should let me do the talking. They laughed and agreed that it was a good idea.  After we checked in at the information booth, we proceeded to the third floor ICU nurse's station.  Once again, I reminded everybody to let me do the talking.  The first person we encountered, a nice man whose name I cannot recall, greeted us then asked the magic question, "are you relatives?" We three stood side by side before him-Wiz with her very tall,slim and leggy showgirl physique, pale skin and blue eyes; me, with my medium rather stocky build, hazel brown eyes and 29" inseem; and Zippy-pale blue-green eyes, soccer-star build and the tiniest hint of her strawberry blonde Irish hair starting to emerge from her frershly shorn scalp.  We couldn't have looked  more different if we'd tried. 
Without skipping a beat, I answered him- "yes, we're his neices."  Nice man picked up the phone and called Oatmeal Jim's room, "his three neices are here to visit." A procedure was taking place, so we were instructed to wait in the (very nice) lounge for family members of ICU patients. We were, after all, his neices.  
After waiting a  while, I went to check in again at the nurse's station.  Once more someone, a different person,  asks the question... "are you family members?"  And once again, my answer-"Yes, we're his neices." While it seemed to be an important bit of information everyone we encountered wanted, no one looked at identification or asked for details,specifics,  etc.  They seemed eager, even happy to help us. As it turns out,  the procedure took longer than we were able to wait.  We left the hospital with a plan to return, and ideas for gifts for our dear "uncle." 
I think he'll get a kick out of this story when he eventually hears it.  
Oh, did I mention that our uncle, Oatmeal Jim, is  dark, handsome and also very hispanic? 
I like the fact that our world is changing and families come in all different shapes, colors and sizes these days.