On Saturday, I woke up very, very sore, like I had somehow done aerobics (because that happens in my world) or a couple of hours of ATS drills. My legs hurt in ways that are totally not explainable by random acts of belly dance, yoga or anything else that is usually the culprit in my world. I was sore in a way that was almost concerning, but then I fell back on the bed in a puddle of giggles because I remembered what I’d done: I danced in public. For hours.

Flashback about 15 years ago, when I used to hit clubs every weekend with my BFF and dance my ass off. Back then, I was the weird girl who didn’t want to ass-dance with guys. I was just in it for the music. That pretty much hasn’t changed, except…

Somehow, on Friday night, as a few friends and I went to see a local cover band, I jumped into an early-80′s-style dance off with a 40-something year old albino man. He probably wasn’t albino, but just very blond, however he was dancing up a storm and I think I may have knocked a person or two out of my way just to dance with him. I was fierce, and I remember thinking that there was no way I was going to NOT dance with him.

I have since reconstructed that scene in my head into some version of the Footloose dance (including subtitles, yo. ).The guy in blue at 2:22 is probably the closest to what I may have managed to do for three minutes, and I cannot remember the song for the life of me, so Footloose it is. (Scratch that one off my bucket list.) My drinky friend, Martini Lady, said my dancing was really good. She also said, drinky out of the blue, I had a really good nose for piercing. I may love her. The guy disappeared once the song ended, never to be seen again. Bwahahahahaa!

That was Friday. The rest of the weekend was pretty blah, mostly because of the half foot of snow that was dumped from the sky, increasing my cabin fever to extraordinary heights, even if I’d just been out all night.

So, the signs of spring are appearing: I have begun to plan my next road trips (I think I’m going to Boston!)… oh, and Magic Hat’s spring beer is out. And, its good, and sold only at Target. Ironic.

SOTW!

That’s like the cheesiest song, ever. But, I’m expanding my horizons.

Much better. In a country sort of way.

Related posts:

1. Hooked!
2. Little Wonders
3. Song(s) of the Week – Its a Two-fer!
4. Its Kind of Like Monday
5. Venus Retrograde