It had been a rough morning. Hey – it happens. I don’t believe in denying the feeling – but of course, it’s not a place we should camp out forever! So, I have a few tools for dealing with days like this:
- Text a friend
- Watch Bad TV
- Tell my poor hubby AHHHLLLLLLLL about it
Or dance. Where ever I am – when one of my songs comes on I jam. The car is my preferred place – but it can be the kitchen. Target. Home Depot. The garage – you get the jist.
And it’s bad. It is SO SO bad.
I am the worst dancer – i mean the very worst.
I think I am missing the little internal gears that make a body twist and wiggle the way it needs to in order to shimmy and shake.
Seriously – I’ve had lessons from all kids of people who have – I kid you not – given up on me. Walked away!
Even drunk people will not dance with me twice.
It’s bad. But – I love to do it (which might be very sad!) and sometimes I dance till I feel better.
So I was sitting at a stoplight feeling all crappy and sad when an old Shania Twain song came on the radio. This song is even more special because it has a fabulous place in our family history where someone was once caught by his sisters lip syncing it complete with a hairbrush and choreography.
That memory made me smile. Then just like that I was singing along. Louder and louder. Then the head bobbing. (Ha! I first typed boobing and almost didn’t catch it! – Sorry – random note… Carry on!)
Pretty soon I was grooving SO HARD!
Out of my peripheral vision I realized I was being watched and I glanced over to see an old man in a beat up work truck with his windows down watching me. He quickly looked away – embarrassed for me I imagine. And come on – I mean it’s better than being caught picking my nose, but still made me blush and almost, almost made me stop…
But then I remembered why I was dancing. Because I did not FEEL like dancing. But I needed to change the way I was feeling… so…..
I rolled down my window.I didn’t speak to him, I just kept sining, poorly. Off-key. And dancing my little heart out.
He turned to look at me just as I pronounced my intention to “color my hair and do what I dare…”
I was smiling, looking in his wrinkled face and surprised eyes.
I kept singing, finally nodding at him and pointing my finger toward him.
He grinned back, gave a stiff little shuffle-head bop not much better than mine but – ok so it was better than mine – and just as the light turned green we moved forward and he leaned over to yell out the window…
I was totally excited to hear what he would say! “You go girl!” “You made my day” “You sure are a woman!” Even, “What’s your number” (He was like 100 years old y’all don’t worry.)
I leaned forward and, as he smoothly sailed by me I heard… “loco…”
Not what I was exactly hoping for… But hey! He was smiling! And so was I.