Oh, the irony.

Last night, after spending hours traipsing across Chicago Land, Tim and I settled into chairs at Uncommon Ground to listen to our friend Mike's quintet. We've heard them once before, and they were great---although the guitarist and piano player were sort of battling over comps. See how I used that jazz lingo? Like I know.

After spending the previous few hours on a mission, we sat at a table with our friend Kaye and her two friends, and chatted before the band started playing. While drinking half a glass of beer, Tim grabbed my wrist. Then he waved it at me, like, Hi! I'm here! I'm making you wave to yourself. Look at this total loss of control on your part.

And then he attempted to move my arm like a marionette. While laughing and yet staying resolutely on-task, he successfully got me to raise my glass to my lips and take a sip, then place the glass back on the table.

We both thought that this was hilarious and impressive. And then I said:

"You've officially moved into Ruth World, Tim."

"Huh?" says the manly and proud Tim.

"You have fallen into the 'I'm in public but I forget that other people can see me' World of Ruth. Welcome. I've been dancing alone to elevator music here for years."


And his face was like, oh, snap. And then he realized that he had been (seriously) using his wife's arm like a robotic stick to make her take a drink of beer in front of two strangers at our table, as well as the 20 other people at the bar, and the musicians preparing on stage. This, from the man, that leaves me hanging when Beyonce comes on at Home Depot, and crosses to the other side of the street when I mock tightrope walk on boulevard curbs. I'm turning 27 in April.

Heh. Got him. Did I mention that while in the car and stuck in slow moving traffic on the interstate, we also both yelled "ARNOLD! ARRRRRRRNOOOOOOOLD!" at the limo next to us because Tim decided the Governor of California was in the limo? And this went on for about 2 minutes?

Arnold.

ARNOLD.

ARNOOOOOOOOOOLD.