I tell you what, no one else in the world can throw a rockin' party like a bunch of beaners. With the weekend festivities kicking off the night before with a dinner "mixer" to get re-acquainted with one another, Saturday night involved the formal party.
To tell you the truth, I wasn't too optimistic about the whole reunion deal. I had never attended one with my own family, and frankly, the thought of Lou's just didn't appeal much. I take it all back. The venue was at the Sangre de Cristo Arts and Cultural Center in downtown Pueblo--classy. Edibles were traditional standard-fare Mexican. And of course, the pre-requisite live band.
I guess the thing that amazed me was the lack of the need for alcohol to get the festivities of the night started. People were mingling, taking pictures, chowing down on the yummy grub...and then the band took the stage with some authentic Mexican polkas...and by josh, clan Rosales swarmed the dance floor. No sitting it out to see who'd be brave enough to step foot on the floor. None of the downing a couple shots to get the nerve to dance. Inebriation not required. It was an instant party.
Everyone danced. EVERYONE. I think dancing, and dancing well, mind you, is an inborn quality in all beaners. Of course, my husband, the best dancer ever was out there as much as he could. Sophia and Olivia took turns with me as his partner. But amazingly, Dylan finally came out of his shell and agreed to dance with his momma...and then his grandma...and soon enough, HE was the one asking ME to dance! That was my personal highlight of the night.
The Ochoa family called it a night when Sophie, of her own accord, laid herself down on three chairs she had scooted together. I hobbled out of there, high heels in hand, barefoot to the car, exhausted, but smiling. What a night.
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