Not So Bad...?
Tough week, right? Having to go to the poles. I mean, sure, many of you reading this right now are closer to the North Pole, so that seems like the obvious direction to head. The South Pole is way the heck down there. Then again, it has all those cute penguins!
Yeah, I know. It’s a coin flip.
In other news: What’s all the fuss about violins on television??
Here’s the thing: there’s still funny stuff happening. For instance, I’m on the list to get prayer requests from our church. Today, I received this one (I am NOT making this up):
Pray they can get rid of the bed bugs in her apartment. She and her cat need extensive dental work.
Okay. I believe in God. I believe in prayer. It’s a solemn responsibility. And I will (and did) pray for this person. But I could not do it without laughing. Bed bugs... Wow, that sucks! And having the same issues with your teeth that the cat does...? Oh, Lord, hear our prayer! (And excuse me while I write a short story riffing on this lady’s situation.)
Why do I find that so freaking hilarious? Maybe because for the past several weeks, most of the West has been on fire (literally), the nation has been imploding/exploding with a vile and toxic cloud of hatred, bigotry, and just plain meanness, we can’t figure out who the prez is going to be, and (here’s the part), COVID is being really stupid and won’t go away.
Right. I’m on the edge. Maybe you are too. Borderline postal. So when I see a prayer request for bed bugs and feline dental work, I am all over it!
Yes, I am drinking more. Yes, I am praying more. Yes, I am working out more. (Don’t start with me about conflicting purposes - not in the mood.) Yes, I am wearing my mask. Yes, I know some people think that’s stupid. Yes, I am petting our dogs and repeating the mantra: “This will lower my blood pressure... This will lower my blood pressure…” And yes, I know it will be a-okay no matter what we wake up to tomorrow. Maybe.
But here’s another thing: We’re going to Huntsville, Alabama. I can’t tell you when because you might come and rob our house while we’re gone (saw that in an article about social media security mistakes). But I can tell you why: my step-son and his fiancé are tying the knot. I’m overjoyed about this. Seriously! He’s an awesome young man and she is a great young lady. I’m super-duper happy for them. What I’m not so crazy about, is the preparation.
I’ve got a suit, a tie that matches my wife’s dress, and even a mask to match both (thanks, Mom!). I’ve got a plane ticket, a place to stay, a rental car, yadda, yadda, yadda... What I don’t have are the moves.
See, the thing is, there will be dancing at the reception. Dancing fills me with trepidation - i.e. Yikes! And here’s another thing: As an average, late-middle-aged white guy who has never had rhythm (I can play instruments, but that’s NOT the same), the idea of having to get out on the dance floor is not thrilling to me.
I can actually do a pretty good Kevin James impression.
Here’s the thing (#5): While I danced like mad in high school, it was motivated by an unabashed desire to gain the attention of the opposite sex. So I didn’t care if it looked ridiculous. A couple of years back, I signed my wife and I up for dance lessons. It was a Christmas present. She’s huge on Zumba and, as a Latina, can dance to anything. So the lessons were basically for me - an attempt to help me keep up with her and not look totally dorky. We learned to waltz and two-step. Those particular dances might come in handy for about seven seconds at the wedding reception. Probably not.
What it comes down to is freestyle dancing and line dancing. I can actually do a pretty good Kevin James impression. (“This is where you live.”) The line dancing, however, has been a project. There’s a learning curve. I’ve been practicing the Cupid Shuffle, the Wobble, the Electric Slide, and the Git Up in the mornings at the gym and taking breaks from work throughout the day to “cut the rug.”
The result of this intensive practice is that today, with a nondescript amount of time left before said wedding (see, I’m being purposefully vague), I am certain that when the DJ cues up one of the songs associated with these dances, I will rise from my seat, nod appreciatively, enthusiastically, and rhythmical, and say with complete confidence, “Be right back - gotta hit the bathroom.”
Why? Because here’s the thing (x10): my muscle memory is lacking and also lagging. I managed to navigate karate to the second degree black belt level. But it required a crazy amount of practice. The self-defense moves and forms that others mastered in minutes took me weeks and months. I practiced religiously and really, you couldn’t tell.
For some reason, when I dance, I have to think. And when I think, the world goes into a slow motion blur. I’m like: “Yeah, sure, okay, step there, then grapevine, okay, tap, yes, now step forward, and... wait where am I? What am I doing...? Oh, crap, everyone else is five moves ahead! Argh!” And this is followed by some pathetic, sweaty flailing as I attempt to catch up.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to get out there and lay down some moves. But I’m already looking forward to that moment when the Wobble songs and Cupid Shuffle songs wind down, and we hear those wonderful, lovely, enchanting words: “Thank you all for coming. Congratulations to the bride and groom! Goodnight!”
We’ll get through this together, right?