She arrived last Saturday, legs a little wobbly from the flight (fear of flying), and more than happy to be earthbound once again. Her suitcase was small, carry-on size and I marveled that she was able to pack all of the female necessities for an entire week in that pint sized bag. So you can imagine my surprise when she emerged from the bedroom with software in hand and a large “blanket” tucked under one arm.
I sat spellbound, mesmerized by the scene that unfolded. She worked quickly, loading her software into the Wii and unrolling her bundle, which turned out to be a 4 x 4 foot pad marked with bold arrows and letters. She turned, smiled at me and stated matter of factly, “it’s time to dance.” And dance she did.
With music blaring at decibel levels not heard at our house since the boys left home, she began to bounce, slowly at first, picking up speed as she caught the beat. Moving at times with the speed of light, feet flying, jumping and spinning, tapping left, then right, up, down and around until I became dizzy just watching. It was a sight to behold, this fifty something woman moving with the speed and the agility of a teen. It was down-right depressing to this overweight and out of shape grammy! The dancing continued for hours that turned into days. It was an endless stream of manic activity. The woman never tires. She is a virtual perpetual motion machine fueled only by Miller 64s. When she needed a break she grabbed an all natural, calorie free, Boca Burger and headed out for a 3-mile jog on the beach. Try and live with that for a week.
But I have to admit my interest was piqued. After all, I’m not much older than she. I could do this, couldn’t I? It looked like fun, not a work-out at all. A late night run to the local Wally World, scored my very own dancing machine. And there we were, side- by-side, movin and groovin the hours away. She was graceful and quick. I was clumsy and slow. But I wasn’t giving up. Stubbornness and stupidity rule when faced with a challenge such as this.
D & J were around some place. I think. Someone must have fed them. Perhaps it was the neighbors. I’m just not certain; it was difficult to focus on anything but the dance. For six glorious days I had rhythm.
She’s gone now. Left this morning. There are no more Miller 64s in the frig. The music has died. My back aches, my ankles are swollen and I can barely stand upright but it was great fun while it lasted.
Originally posted 03/20/09
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