Who says engineers can't dance?

There's a ceilidh dance called "Strip the Willow," where couples line up facing each other, women on one side of the room and men on the other. The lead couple comes together, grasps hands, spins around a couple of times, and sets off down the line, linking left elbows and spinning with the next person in line, then spinning right elbow with your partner. You spin with each person of the opposite sex, then meet your partner again at the bottom of the room for some more spinning until the end of the measure of music. Or until you fall down.

My dad was my partner.

The Chief, as we call him, is an engineer and does everything according to Best Practices. He ties his shoes efficiently, adds exactly the same amount of pepper to his eggs every Saturday morning, and he attacks traditional Scottish dances like a math problem. You could almost hear his brain turning over, "Okay, this is the part where we spin. Commence spinning!" He grabbed my hands and I was flung to every degree of the room. My shoes were two beats behind my head. "Okay, this is the part where I send Katie back to the line of men!" I was launched the five feet that most people have to dance through. By the end of the line, after 30 or more extraordinarily efficient spins down the room, I saw his hands coming towards me again and I almost ran away instead of grasping them. "The last spins! They will be the best." His grin gave his thoughts away and I'm sure my eyes showed my terror.

Back in the line of women, trying to get my inner ear back into my head, my brother came up behind me. "You know, Katie, lots of the Scottish men were also launching their partners around, but you have to give Dad credit for beating them all. I think he created the most centrifugal force in the room."

I laughed back at him, "U.S.A!!"