A Letter to Stephan

Dear Stephan,

How are you? I hope you're having a good day. Everything at the office going well?

As for me, I'm fine. I was surprised when you started quoting to me from my own entries, but I appreciate you being so interested in what I write. I've never had a boyfriend like you. You keep surprising me.

Like the day we first sat and had coffee. When you told me your favorite singer was Micheal Bolton, and that you were truly sad that he'd cut his hair. I didn't know what to say, so I just laughed. When I was laying in bed that night, I kept asking myself, "Why can't I stop thinking about this guy? "

Also, you're always very well dressed. American guys hate to admit that they care about what they look like, so I'm used to men being kind of ignorant about clothing. But you know exactly what kind of jeans look great on you and what style of T-shirts to hunt for at the market. And your fashion advice for me never ceases to impress me.

But what really floors me is how openly romantic you are. I've never had that before. You're very earnest and sweet and it just makes me fall in love with you over and over. On top of this, you love to be silly, (I love your fake stories about your village, Proust, back in Mexico), and I adore being ridiculous with you.

I'll see you later today. I'm putting a kiss in this blog entry. Can you feel it?

Love,
Lindsay

The Ancient American Chicken Dance

As an American overseas, you're constantly asked to explain your strange, esoteric country. Questions like, "Why are Americans so violent that they fight each other in big stadiums for an audience? There's rock music and flashing lights and everything. And why doesn't anyone care if someone gets hurt?" It's not easy. Particulary when John Cena is just as popular as Celine Dion in developing countries.
Recently, I was asked to talk about another national castastrophe; American Weddings. What do Americans do? What do they eat? How do they pray? What do they wear? While discussing it, I mentioned that, in the states, people like to be really silly just after a wedding. Silly in what way, everyone wanted to know. "Oh, you know," I said, "like, we do the Chicken Dance."
"Chick-en...Dance?" All the teachers I had speaking quickly exchanged the traditional, Malagasy, how-do-I-handle-this-expression with one another. I jumped in with an explanation.
"See, we have a dance that looks like chickens. And we dance it whenever someone gets married. There's a special song for it. I've done it lots of times." Their curiosity kicked in and they smiled a little. "Can you teach it to us," they asked, "at a party for some English students?"
And so, that's how I committed to bringing our beautiful American tradition to the far reaches of the globe. As of tomorrow, a whole new population will be clipping the air with beak-hands, flapping their elbows, wiggling their tailfeathers and throwing themselves into a do-si-do. Will it end up at any weddings? One can only hope.