Once again, I am depressed.
Yesterday afternoon right before I hopped in the shower, behind the safety of a locked bedroom door, I tried to do the Beyonce Booty Shake for the first time in a month. I know, it’s been awhile. Know that learning this dance is not like learning to ride a bike. Apparently it’s something that if you don’t use, you lose, and I have lost it. And that upsets me deeply.
I worked so, so hard. I practiced. I concentrated. I spent many late nights perfecting this dance. I had it down to an exact science. I was the envy of…well, no one, because I could never bring myself to do this anywhere but my closet. Why, God, why–why would you bless me with this dandy talent only to take it away so soon? I didn’t even get to wow my husband with my amazing moves. That’s what hurts the most.
Actually, it would’ve hurt HIM the most–I can hear him now: "My eyes! It burns!"
No matter. I will keep working on it until I get my coordination back, until my butt muscles remember…until Beyonce herself calls and asks me to give her one-on-one toni-licious dance lessons. Hey–it could happen!
On top of that, I think I have the mumps. It started out with a swollen something or other right above my jaw beside my right ear, and it aches when it touches anything. I mentioned it to Caleb, who teased me about having the mumps. His teasing went too far, and before long I was convinced. And so now here I am, about to go down south and pass this dread disease on to his dear sweet granny. My only hope is that if I do have the mumps, Caleb himself will get it and be sorry about making fun of me. That would make it all worthwhile.
I hope everyone enjoys their weekend, where ever they may be. Don’t catch the mumps.