Just like you and your spousal unit, when Rick and I were engaged, we thought it might be prudent to learn how to dance. Nothing fancy, just a neat little waltz or maybe a watered down samba.
So we signed up for ballroom instruction, and rendezvoused in the parking lot before class. I don’t remember whose idea it was to bring beer, but we got into the habit of having a quick, cold one before heading in, to loosen us up.
The beer did not help. We did not magically click on the dance floor. It was not effortless. We stepped all over each other. Kind of like building our second app.
Our first app was easy – I wrote it, Rick photographed it. Rick built the web site, I promoted it. Clear division of labor.
The Virginia Wine in My Pocket project? A little different. We’re more ambitious with this one. Rick’s got big ideas about online winery maps and merchandise; I’m scribbling notes to myself about travel articles and interviews. We’re moving fast. But that doesn’t mean we’re dancing to the same beat.
For example: Rick thinks we should banter in our blog (this is the blog). Make it a he said/she said kind of thing. I think of Gene Weingarten’s face-offs with Gina Barreca in the Washington Post Magazine, and decide, “No way.” We’re just not that interesting. But I go ahead and offer up some provocative hooks to pull Rick into the blogersation, and…nothing.
Several days later I say, “Why didn’t you jump in? I gave you an opening!”
And he says, “That was an opening? I didn’t have anything to say!”
Well, we did dance on our wedding day. We busted out our best 9th grade dance moves, wrapping each other in a big bear hug and swaying to Valentine. And someday we may actually be in step on Virginia Wine in My Pocket, too.
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