Recapped
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I danced. And danced. And then danced some more at Cowtown Jamborama this weekend. There were dance instructors in attendance that teach all over the world. Incredible live music. And fun. I had SO. MUCH. FUN.
I promised myself a new pair of dance shoes if I didn't act like a complete wallflower, and I earned them. I danced with guys from Omaha, Kansas City, Utah, Seattle and Minnesota. And those are the only ones I asked. There were more, I'm sure. I danced with all but one of the male instructors - the only one I didn't dance with was the one that never smiled. Phht. If you're not having fun, I don't want to share the non-fun with you.
The people that I have met dancing have all had this sort of clean-cut kind of look to them. I am not judging, I'm just observing. But the three instructors I liked the most? Dirty and tattooed. Yes! Dark and insidious. Hurt and history. And the one I liked the most? Here's how I described him to Cowgirl. He had that dark, sultry, dirty, tattooed, Ijustsmokedcrackinthebathroom bad boy about him that SO appealed to my base desires. Oh yes. Sigh. Oh yes. And when I danced with him? Even. More. Yes. Sexy. Stark. I wanted to rip his clothes off.
Oh Peter, if only you knew...
Okay. That's out of the way. We got there late for the first lesson on Friday. Our dance instructor here kept motioning us to join in, but I was busy soaking in my environment. Checking the exits, surveying the lay of the land. Getting used to being somewhere unfamiliar. An hour later? I let loose. Yes. I. Did. Balboa is my new favorite. It's like the crack of dancing. (Thanks Eric, for that analogy.)
When you're hot and tired and you can't do anything else, you can lean in and do Balboa. It's easy and it's relaxing and you get to - you know - lean in. The person I danced with the most just let go and we relaxed into it and no hands needed. Just close your eyes and dance. God. I loved it. It makeamehappy. On Friday night, I kept asking people to dance and no one said no. Ever. It was awesome. We left around midnight. Which is a big deal to this girl that usually goes to bed at 9:30.
I didn't sleep at all that night. I hate hotel rooms and I even more hate sharing a bed. So Saturday couldn't have come earlier. Showering and facing the day with no sleep was wicked. But I went to all the lessons, and thanks to Mia Goldsmith, I FINALLY understand the Lindy swivel. I watched and watched and watched her. All she did was place her feet, he pulled. Instant swivel. So I tried out my theory with my partner and giggled with joy. I FIGURED IT OUT! And I tested it out all weekend and yes! It worked EVERY SINGLE TIME! And then I took a nap. Saturday night's dance? Holy. Even more people. Even more dancing. We left the first dance at 1 a.m. thinking we'd just go back to the hotel and to bed. But when we got there, I turned to Dancing Queen and said, "I kind of want to go to late night." She concurred and for the first time in 20 years, I left my bed for a venue after one in the morning. And I'm SO GLAD I DID.
We went to this wicked art gallery in Omaha and danced until three in the morning, at which time, I was so tired, I was dancing like I was drunk - as were many people. Only they really WERE drunk. I was just tired. One of the instructors that I danced with that night kept saying, "Please don't hold this dance against me. I've had too much to drink." Hahahhaa. If only he knew.
We left Sunday morning. I'd had more than I could take. The sensory overload was too much. My legs ached and any more face to face people time would have killed me. Maybe next year I'll take Monday off instead of Friday and go to the Sunday night dance - which looked like incredible fun from the pictures on facebook. But for now? It was good. It was SO good. I earned my new dance shoes. And I have a newfound appreciation for myself. I'm not the world's best dancer, but as someone remarked, "You're always giggling and laughing when you dance." To which I respond. "Of course I am. This is the most fun I've had in years." If I wasn't laughing, I wouldn't do it. This dancing? It makes me so happy. So. Very. Happy.
I promised myself a new pair of dance shoes if I didn't act like a complete wallflower, and I earned them. I danced with guys from Omaha, Kansas City, Utah, Seattle and Minnesota. And those are the only ones I asked. There were more, I'm sure. I danced with all but one of the male instructors - the only one I didn't dance with was the one that never smiled. Phht. If you're not having fun, I don't want to share the non-fun with you.
The people that I have met dancing have all had this sort of clean-cut kind of look to them. I am not judging, I'm just observing. But the three instructors I liked the most? Dirty and tattooed. Yes! Dark and insidious. Hurt and history. And the one I liked the most? Here's how I described him to Cowgirl. He had that dark, sultry, dirty, tattooed, Ijustsmokedcrackinthebathroom bad boy about him that SO appealed to my base desires. Oh yes. Sigh. Oh yes. And when I danced with him? Even. More. Yes. Sexy. Stark. I wanted to rip his clothes off.
Oh Peter, if only you knew...
Okay. That's out of the way. We got there late for the first lesson on Friday. Our dance instructor here kept motioning us to join in, but I was busy soaking in my environment. Checking the exits, surveying the lay of the land. Getting used to being somewhere unfamiliar. An hour later? I let loose. Yes. I. Did. Balboa is my new favorite. It's like the crack of dancing. (Thanks Eric, for that analogy.)
When you're hot and tired and you can't do anything else, you can lean in and do Balboa. It's easy and it's relaxing and you get to - you know - lean in. The person I danced with the most just let go and we relaxed into it and no hands needed. Just close your eyes and dance. God. I loved it. It makeamehappy. On Friday night, I kept asking people to dance and no one said no. Ever. It was awesome. We left around midnight. Which is a big deal to this girl that usually goes to bed at 9:30.
I didn't sleep at all that night. I hate hotel rooms and I even more hate sharing a bed. So Saturday couldn't have come earlier. Showering and facing the day with no sleep was wicked. But I went to all the lessons, and thanks to Mia Goldsmith, I FINALLY understand the Lindy swivel. I watched and watched and watched her. All she did was place her feet, he pulled. Instant swivel. So I tried out my theory with my partner and giggled with joy. I FIGURED IT OUT! And I tested it out all weekend and yes! It worked EVERY SINGLE TIME! And then I took a nap. Saturday night's dance? Holy. Even more people. Even more dancing. We left the first dance at 1 a.m. thinking we'd just go back to the hotel and to bed. But when we got there, I turned to Dancing Queen and said, "I kind of want to go to late night." She concurred and for the first time in 20 years, I left my bed for a venue after one in the morning. And I'm SO GLAD I DID.
We went to this wicked art gallery in Omaha and danced until three in the morning, at which time, I was so tired, I was dancing like I was drunk - as were many people. Only they really WERE drunk. I was just tired. One of the instructors that I danced with that night kept saying, "Please don't hold this dance against me. I've had too much to drink." Hahahhaa. If only he knew.
We left Sunday morning. I'd had more than I could take. The sensory overload was too much. My legs ached and any more face to face people time would have killed me. Maybe next year I'll take Monday off instead of Friday and go to the Sunday night dance - which looked like incredible fun from the pictures on facebook. But for now? It was good. It was SO good. I earned my new dance shoes. And I have a newfound appreciation for myself. I'm not the world's best dancer, but as someone remarked, "You're always giggling and laughing when you dance." To which I respond. "Of course I am. This is the most fun I've had in years." If I wasn't laughing, I wouldn't do it. This dancing? It makes me so happy. So. Very. Happy.
9 comments:
He may look like he smolders, but he's really just a geek. I mean, he's wearing a paper hat and donning a light saber made of, of, um...EVEN MORE PAPER? If that's not geeky, what is?
Wonderful that you had a good time. And I'm sure they would say what a good dancer you are!!!
I'm so glad you had a fun weekend! You definitely earned your new shoes. And I'm so jealous. So very very jealous. Of the dancing, of the fun, of the intense attraction to someone you just met. To all of it. Keep it up - I enjoy being jealous :)
I love that video! They're lindy hopping to something that's not lindy music. Or I guess it is?
I don't know anything about this.
Dancing is one of the most enjoyable things a person can do if they let themselves go. It's great that you had such a good time.
The wedding we went to- everybody that danced, were obviously there to have fun-except one couple who had taken dance lessons.. they looked great, but the guy never smiled.. as the night wore on it was clear they could dance well together, but weren't really dancing to the music playing. Rhythm fine, but every move they made, no matter what the song, looked the same. I always get a kick out of women going towards the dance floor when the music starts...they boogie to the music, getting there- with a guy in tow that isn't gonna do anything until they get to the dance floor! Watch the next wedding reception, and tell me I'm wrong!
I am so glad that you had a great time, and experience!
There are a lot of things in life where you just don't have to be the best to contribute to the cause and have a good time. Dancing is most certainly one of them. I love how you "got it" with the Lindy. And how you stayed out until the wee hours dancing your heart out. I love the energy you give off in this post. Go, Kate!
Start responding to comments.. you have no idea the forums that can get going! You are smart, and can do this..shake the damn bush, and see what good fruit falls...Listening can be hearing an echo, talking can be sending an echo all might hear, if you need imput...
Oh wow! It sounds like a wonderful time!
I hate hotel rooms too. I would rather sleep in a tent most times. At least the tent is mine and I know where it's been. :)
And here you were worried about the whole thing. :D
I have a video of Mr. No-Smiles in a contest at Frankie 95. David and I had a hard time recognizing him when we were going through the videos a month ago; he's actually smiling during it.
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