Dance

I have mentioned before that I can't dance. I'm not talking about feeling a little uncomfortable on the dance floor or having outdated moves.

I'm saying that I can NOT dance. There is not one rhythmic bone in my body. Like Elaine Benis times 10! Unless I have a few drinks and then I can move like there is no tomorrow!

Have you ever watched a crowd of people listening to music with a beat that makes you want to clap your hands? You know how there is always one person that claps a fraction of a second after everyone else. Well, that person is me!

I've often wondered why I am so bad at dancing. Were the stars not in the right arrangement at the time of my birth? Am I missing the rhythm gene? The coordination gene?

I finally got my answer.

Recently, I was looking at photographs. I came across some from 2004 - from a weekend spent in Mississippi with my aunts. My sister, The Manager, had recently eloped to Las Vegas and they threw a shower for her.

Anyway, my sister-in-law, Prima Ballerina (as you can tell from her name) is a dancer. She owns a dance studio and teaches dance.

During this weekend, someone (I don't remember who!) convinced Prima Ballerina to "teach us some moves".

In these photos, Prima Ballerina is the cute, skinny one in the black top. Tell me if you see anyone doing what she is doing.



My lack of dancing skill is NOT. MY. FAULT.

PS - After all the dancin' fun, we made a run for Tunica for a little drinkin' and gamblin' fun. Apparently, there were some in our group that wanted some other kinds of fun too, because somebody got knocked up in Tunica. I'm not saying who but Pita arrived 9 months later! Prima Ballerina has yet to return to Tunica.....