9/27/2010 The Bad Dancer

*Walks in jauntily and plops on couch*
Ahhh, Mr. Blog.
How are you today?
Well, I was certainly a naughty kitten last night.
After a lovely dinner at Goutback Steakhouse
we watched a movie I found at the Pawnshop called,
'So I Married an Axe Murderer.'
It was hysterical and Teddy watched it with us.
Then I hopped in bed and finished the entire second half
of 'Quentins' by Maeve Binchy.
It was so awesome because she had all the old characters
from 'Tara Road', 'The Scarlet Feather' and 'The Evening Class.'
You know, if Holland America would hire me as a librarian
I could VERY EASILY lead the book discussions.
I did it when I was subbing in English up at
Shorecrest High School.
So it took me until two AM to finish
which means I am two hours behind for my Monday chores.
My floors. Not easy since my vacuum cleaner died then the
old one Faithy gave me died last week too.
Ugh. Vacuuming with an electric broom takes FOREVER.
Funny when I carried mail for the post office from '78 to '87
that I thought my friends home with kids and housework had it easy.
No wonder all the moms in the fifties drank vodka all day!
Motherhood and housework are the most thankless
jobs in the world!
So I had forgotten all about the time I told you about
yesterday, when Terry and I were dancing all night
at the Kalaloch parachute party
and when I went to bed I remembered why!
He is the worst dancer you ever saw!
He gets his viewing of 'Saturday Night Fever'
mixed up with his basketball moves
and it is the most hideous thing
you ever saw in your life!
Now, you know I don't drink much
if at all, but I need to knock back a few
to been seen with him on a dance floor.
Funny thing is, I love to dance!
I remember in Holly Park housing project
in 1959, our black teenage babysitters
would teach us all the latest dances.
The radio stations had started to play
something that was called Rock and Roll.
They told us to move to the music
and let the music move us.
They delighted that at three and four
I could mimic all their moves so well
and it made them laugh.
Obviously my darling muppet of a husband
has never learned to move to the music.
It's like watching Larry Bird and Arthur Murray
in after a splice job.
Terrible.
Awful.
Scar you for life.
So we danced at our wedding, at Kalaloch
and at Marta's fiftieth birthday party three years ago
and that's it.
Because it's just not fun dancing with
The Bad Dancer.