Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010

Guess what we did last night? We went dancing! We’ve been saying for years that we wanted to take dancing lessons and last week B made a command decision and signed us up for an introductory lesson. We plunked down twenty-five bucks at a studio just north of here for forty-five minutes of private instruction so we could learn to dance the Foxtrot and Waltz.

Sort of. My Darling B and I are not the most graceful of people, and together we make one of the biggest balls of clumsy you’ve ever seen, which is why it’s a good thing this was a private lesson so you never could’ve seen it.

It’s not that we don’t dance ever. We shake our booties to the rock and roll tunes on the radio in the privacy of our own home and, on very special occasions, and usually only with the benefit of a little liquid lubrication, we will put our booty-shaking on display in public.

We have never been much for going out on the town to paint it red, though, and the way we dance together has never required us to actually coordinate our movements. And, as it turned out, it just may be that we are genetically predisposed to remain uncoordinated booty-shakers all our lives. Or maybe not. Neither one of us ever did step on the other’s feet, so I supposed that should be an encouraging sign.

first dancing lesson | 2:56 pm CDT
Category: dance, hobby, My Darling B, O'Folks, play
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