You know what else I love (besides tea)? DANCING.
I lurv, lurv, lurv to dance, but it's a tricky love. My dancing shoes only love me in return at spontaneous times...sometimes when there is no dance floor at hand, so I use my kitchen floor instead:
Other times, both the opportunity and the disco ball are there, but the dancing shoes are elsewhere, and the result is not pretty: forced moves without any zest. Someone like Silas House describes in Clay's Quilt:
"He moved carefully and stiff, like a man
stepping across rows in a garden."
But then there are those time, oh those glorious moments that I cherish so much, where the tension of months builds and builds, and opportunity meets timing and BAM!
"Geneva was a good dancer not only because of how well she moved but because of the cool, serious look on her face. She seemed completely absorbed in the music, unaware of her dancing partner or her surroundings. She shut her eyes or looked at the floor, holding her mouth in a firm, straight line with her top lip stuck out hard about the bottom one." Clay's Quilt by Silas House
of dancing (sometimes scaring those around me). Here are some of those times:
