Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Salsa Strangeness

Well, I decided to throw caution to the wind and go with JoJo to the Salsa dancing club downtown Friday night.  My second time to go.  The girl loves to dance.  She's embracing all things Latin - dancing, the Spanish language, you name it...

I am two left feet.  I tried ballroom dancing a little over a year ago.  Just to try something new.  It's just not for me.  So, being the good friend that I am, I was J's companion.  Somehow, I'd forgotten just how desperately bored I felt the last time.  Maybe because I wound up cutting the rug a little myself.  With a very patient, kind instructor.  He was one of the best dancers in the room.  I think he took pity on me.  So it wound up being kinda fun at the end.  J was a little jealous because she'd set her sights on dancing with him earlier in the evening.  Said you should dance with the best dancer in the room, because that's how you get better.  It's true, I suppose.  Because I did get better.  Or at least I finally got the hang of it.

Part of my aversion to dancing (springing from my ballroom dancing experience) is that I don't like to be manhandled by strange, sweaty, sometimes smelly men.   They tell you not to look at your feet, and to just let them lead.  I'm terrible at letting someone else lead.  And if you're not looking at your feet, you might have to actually make eye contact.   I hate when they try to spin me around. 

 I've gotten really good at avoiding being asked to dance.  It's all in the body language.  I told Jo that sometimes I can see, in my peripheral vision, someone walking straight toward me and stop, stand there a second and walk in a different direction.  It's like they hit my force field.  The way it works is that if you want to dance, you turn your head toward them when you see them coming.  Then you smile warmly.  This is what Jo says.  And it works.  Her dance card is full.  I guard the purses and order Mojitos for her, she comes back to the table breathless and glowing, and before she can toss back half her drink, another dance partner appears.  She's very sweet and will dance with anyone.  I'm much pickier.  She scolds me about that.  I tell her I'm just efficient and don't want to waste my time on someone I'm not interested in.  She scolds me about that.  She's much sweeter than I am.  Much.

Sooo, besides being a good friend and holding down the fort, I was entertained by a couple of Whirling Dervishes.  By the way, Whirling Dervishes are a real thing.  Read this fascinating exerpt from Wikipedia:  The whirling dance or Sufi whirling that is proverbially associated with Dervishes is best known in the West by the practices (performances) of the Mevlevi order in Turkey, and is part of a formal ceremony known as the Sama.  It is, however, also practiced by other orders. The Sama is only one of the many Sufi ceremonies performed to try to reach religious ecstasy (majdhb, fana). The name Mevlevi comes from thePersian poet, Rumi who was a Dervish himself. This practice, though not intended as entertainment, has become a tourist attraction in Turkey.

The couple in question were enthusiastically, incessently twirling each other around.  It's a wonder her long blonde hair didn't hit him in the cornea.  I've done that when blow drying my hair before and it's very painful.  The blonde girl came dangerously close to slamming her elbow into the face of a woman nearby.  I wish I'd thought to take a picture of the woman's face.  She had attitude.  Everytime the Dervishes would get closer, she'd get the angriest expression, which was totally lost on the spinners.  They were in a world unto themselves.  I laughed just a little too hard about it.

Well, Jo is already talking about our next excursion.  I might have to take to wearing the huge boot thing around her.  I have it from when I sprained my ankle a few years back.  I'll just tell her it's flaired up again.  Actually, I think I tore my quad running the other day.  Seriously.  But my ankle hurts a little, too.  And then there's the Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus still lurking in my belly button.  I think it's gonna be a while before I'm up to Salsa dancing again...

1 comment:

  1. I've enjoyed reading the blog over the last week or two. I always get a good laugh and am dazzled by your wide range of stuff you know about and your interests. Things sound pretty good for you. I am headed to Mempho tomorrow. Short visit w/ Mom. She is not well.
    Will probably call on the drive up, xox, L