I finished up the seed block blanket I was working on and gave it to Mike. No photo of the finished project. I’ll try to get one the next time I’m down on Liberty. He absolutely loved the blanket. It’s the perfect size for traveling on the bus or just curling up under. I certainly wouldn’t use it as a afghan; but, it suits the purpose for which it was created. That purpose being a small blanket for tossing over your lap or used while traveling. It’s big enough to cover you in a bus/airplane/car seat without being obnoxious.

There are currently two projects in the works. One is a baby blanket for Paco’s latest addition. I’ve been designing/working on it for forever, it seems – and, it’s slowly coming to a finish. I figure by the time the newborn is a toddler, I should have it finished. Here’s hoping it actually lays flat when I finish – I’m working from the outside in, which is always a challenge. For some reason working outside in has more issues with laying flat than working from the center out.

I had to order more yarn.  I had no idea I’d burn through so much!  I get a feeling this blanket is going to be a lot larger than I anticipated.  Not a problem in the least – but, when you figure I’m working on US 3 / 3.25 mm size needles…well, it does take a bit of time to finish a project.  Especially when you get a bit bored by the repetitive nature of the pattern.  I do enjoy how it is turning out, mistakes and all.  The people receiving it will love it no matter what it looks like; but, it’s nice to be happy with something you are designing and creating yourself.

As there is so much of just a single stitch (knit, knit, knit, knit…yeah), the project can get a bit tedious at times, so I am also working on a pair of twisted rib socks for myself.  They are being knit on a pair of US 1/ 2.25mm needles.  I lost the band to the yarn so I’m not sure exactly what it’s called, though I know it’s a German import.  I love it…except that it splits like crazy!  Ah well, c’est la vie.  I like how it feels knit up; and, will enjoy wearing them after I’m done…and, it serves its purpose of giving me a break from the incessant knit stitch from the baby blanket.

We went out dancing at Swallow’s Inn, last night.  I’d forgotten how much I love that dance floor.  It’s tiny, but a pure joy to dance on.  Mike and I were receiving all sorts of compliments from people.  It was a little disconcerting; but, I do have to admit it’s nice to have your ego stroked like that, sometimes.  I always enjoy listening to the Honky Tonk Kings.  They are a good band that understands the difference between good listening music and good dancing music.  I wish more bands could figure that out.  They had a good number of people up from San Diego to support them, which I thought was wonderful.  Ken even showed up – which was a surprise.  For some reason, I’d believed he wasn’t going to be there.  I always enjoy getting to dance with him.

As for the Honky Tonk Kings…they will always have a special place in my mind/memories.  I originally met them when they played at Swallow’s Inn in August.  They were the group that wound up causing me to start making the drive south to San Diego and the Renegade every weekend. Which is where/how I met Mike.  Lot to be thankful for, there. Amusing that the guy who the first thing I noticed was that he was in my way has wound up being such an intrinsic part of my life.  Isn’t it interesting how life takes its various twists and turns to get you someplace you had no idea you needed/wanted to be?

Speaking of said fellow…I think it’s time I grabbed my knitting and went and curled up with him for a while to watch one of our favorite shows, “How It’s Made“.  And, if it strikes his fancy, maybe I’ll make a London broil with Yorkshire pudding and English peas (or green beans) for dinner.

Well, last night was …not the best night at the dancehall.

For those of you who do not know, my sole purpose for going out is to dance.  I don’t drink much at all and I’m not out to hook up with anyone.  I love to flirt – social flirtation has sadly been lost for the most part.  It used to be one of the finest social artforms.  And, it’s a real shame, actually.  Flirtation makes people feel better about themselves; and, it’s one reason I will flirt with anyone.  And, yes, I mean anyone.  So long as I can tell they are not taking me seriously.  Maybe social flirtation is a Southern thing?  I don’t know where I picked it up.  But, seeing someone who is turned in on themselves and seeming very closed off and down…it prods me to do something to change it.  Inject a little, light, social flirtation – and, you’d be amazed at the transformation that occurs.  A simple smile – a real one, not a faked or smart alec one – can lift someone’s spirits.  A laugh brings a little light to their eyes.  And, you see them slowly start to straighten up.  Their bearing and posture improving and their eyes losing some of the shadows and the tension lines on their face easing…and, it just makes you feel good.

I am always very clear with my dance partners that I am not there to play the “hook up” game.  I’m there simply for the joy of dancing.  The friends I am making and the enjoyment from them is a nice bonus.

So, imagine my surprise when I found out last night that half the club thinks that Ken and I are a couple.  I was floored.  Neither of us has remotely indicated we were.  We never arrive together.  We never leave together.  I dance with him regularly – however, I dance with Charlie, Dan, Mike, Mike, Mike ((**snickers** yes, three Mike’s)), Lawrence, Steve, and pretty much anyone who asks so long as it’s not a 10 step.  I rarely, rarely turn someone down to dance.  Even brand spanking new dancers get my agreement.  How else are they to learn if they never get to dance?  We all start someplace, eh?  So long as the guy isn’t falling down, stupid drunk and can keep his hands where they belong, I’ll dance with him.  I have been known to walk off a dance floor because a partner was … inappropriate.

So, anyway…last night at the club sucked.  It was crammed to overflowing, and I do not handle crowds well at all.  Not even remotely.  Worst case = full blown panic attack.  Do you realize it’s been nearly a decade since I’ve been in an actual mall?  I don’t go to concerts.  When I go to the movies, I put something in the chair beside me to keep someone from sitting in it.  And consistently being bumped into when I don’t take up that much space and there’s no call for it starts getting my dander up lickety split.  So, last night, I was just a hair shy of having a serious come apart.  I was being slammed into consistently – realize…I’m sitting on the inside edge of a barstool and still being hit by this woman’s flailing elbows and hands.  And, not a single apology or acknowledgment that she is in anyway infringing on my space – much less beating me.  One more hit and I was going to let fly.  The fellow to my left saw the glint in my eye as the woman’s elbow started to come back to impact with my body once again; and, thanks to him she did not wind up kissing floor.  He intercepted her elbow and informed her that if she wanted to remain in one piece she would be wise to relocate.  He didn’t word it quite like that – but, it wasn’t far off.  I couldn’t even get off the stool for a good period of time because people were so packed around me.  Realize – this is not remotely typical for a night at the Renegade.

Add in the fact that only Ken was there of my regular dance partners – which means I was doing a lot of sitting and not consistently dancing…and, well, it wasn’t a grand night of dancing.  However…I did make a few new friends and added a dance partner to my roster.  These are good things.  The fellow at the end of the bar’s name was Joe (he’s in the background of the photo below) and he has an interesting life story to share.  The other was a fellow named Bob.  I’ve watched him dance for the last few months, but we’ve both always been so busy dancing that we haven’t gotten to dance together.  He got me out on the floor last night and it was a surprising joy to dance with him.  Most men who lead like he does, I just flat out cannot follow.  He’s got a ballroom style lead.  However, he managed to telegraph just the right amount of information.  Only had one or two mis-steps the whole time we danced.  While I enjoy dancing, I’m generally not comfortable with a lot of leads out there.

There was more, I was feeling quite wordy – but, I’m sure your eyes are thanking the cyber-pogs that the rest got lost and I can’t recall exactly what it was I was saying…Though the night ended well when I came home, and contrary to the norm logged in to check my email. Had a nice, unexpected chat with a friend and went to bed in quite a fine mood.

I had a blast, last night. I actually got asked to dance by several people I’d not met before. And a few I had. D and R were there and that always makes my night. Poor D…as soon as he walked in (it was in the middle of a waltz – my favorite dance) I walked up, grabbed him and had him on the floor. No by your leave, no nothing. It took me a minute to figure out what felt wrong – then I realized it was the first time I’d ever gotten the very first dance with him – his shirt was dry. That amused me.

I actually had the most fun at the Broken Spoke that I have ever had. And, I nearly didn’t go. Go figure. I was at home and had been on a cleaning binge determined to get my floors clean – we will not discuss how three tiny dogs manage to make that big a mess. I swear they are toddlers in disguise. And, while I adore my landlord to no end (I actually really do – he’s one of the nicest guys on the planet)…I am often tempted to beat him for having light coloured tile installed. Admittedly, it makes the place look better than a darker tile would have – but, I no sooner get it clean than it looks filthy again. It’s disheartening. Anyway, I had swept, swiffered and mopped all except the storage room/office (yeah, that one’s getting ignored until I have like a full week to devote to emptying that place out and getting rid of stuff that really needs to go).

I cleaned off the patio and the kitchen and all that good stuff – this means I was moving furniture and sweeping ceilings and corners, etc. The problem with me starting to clean is it’s very hard to stop until the whole place has been overhauled. Generally, this means I clean on the weekends. However, when I went home last night I just couldn’t take my floors anymore and started scrubbing. By 7:30pm I had flopped on the couch to eat a quick meal…I eyeballed my knitting and picked it up and got about two rows done. All the while thinking, “I really should get ready to go out.”

I seriously debated the thought for a while. Then decided I’d take a quick shower and see how I felt. After the shower I felt almost human again and decided to go ahead and head out – but, I wasn’t going to put a whole lot of effort into it.

This strengthens my belief that if I want to get asked to dance, I need to just not put any effort into looking good. I didn’t do anything to my hair, I had nominal makeup on and I was in a ratty, old tank top and jeans. My only concession to going out was the makeup. Yeah, the guys at work have gotten used to the fact that I generally don’t wear the stuff.

It was a lot of fun. I’m getting better and better about dodging incoming elbows and feet – though, it winds up putting me through some contortions and unexpected footwork that has R laughing heartily from time to time. I’m getting to where the crowd on the floor doesn’t make me tense up and want to run screaming from the building. Instead, I’m starting to be able to view it as a dynamic obstacle course – and viewing it as a challenge to make it through a dance without hitting or being hit by anyone on the floor.

So, he grabs my hand and drags me out onto the dance floor. This is a guy who can literally dance non-stop from 8pm to 2am. Yeah, six hours straight. He kept me on that floor for four fast songs – a polka, a two step and two one steps. By a bit over ½ the way through the third dance my legs were burning hard core. By the end of the fourth, my legs were feeling a bit better, but I could feel the work out they were getting. Interestingly, my breathing was actually not that bad. R escorted me off and said, “See, better than you realized.” I just groaned at him and popped his shoulder. He laughed at me.

I really do like the guys – though, I do need to round up some more dance partners. I just find it so hard to go against my deeply ingrained belief that it is not right for a woman to ask a man she’s never met to dance. I mean, seriously difficult. I don’t care about the whole “no” business. It’s just that it’s not taken right when a woman asks a man to dance. 99.9% of the guys who get asked to dance won’t see it as just a request to dance. And I am not there to pick up guys. R says that if they take it as more to just put them in their place…and, I guess so – but, man…I dunno.

The site decided to crash in the middle of this post so you are all saved from my rambling – however, all that typing that is no longer present did reveal something to me. One reason I don’t ask men to dance aside from my ingrained belief that it’s just not appropriate is the response that I’ve encountered from the associated female. I don’t care how bad I’m looking that day – the second I approach a man and start talking to him things get tense. And, heaven forbid, should I actually dance or otherwise engage in a social activity with said male. The results of such actions in the past do not merit discussion – but, those results are one of the reasons I will hard core hesitate to ask a man to dance.

The rest of the post was about an ITWire article and I really don’t feel like retyping all I was saying – but, if you are technically minded and want to read about IBM’s new Microsoft free endeavor – check it out here. It’s pretty interesting, actually.

My little cousin’s sweater is moving along nicely. I’d put myself about 40% complete at this point in time. If I’m lucky, I’ll get it done before the Olympics kick off and I have to focus on my own sweater. I’m set to finish that sweater in the time frame of the Olympics…start to finish – I pick up my sweater on Friday evening and am to have it completed by the end of the Olympics. We’ll see if I can manage it.

Thanks to the girls at LSSK, I should be able to track down the pattern tonight (they remembered the binder I put the pattern in – is that not completely amazing?) and the yarn has been beaten into submission…and the needles are quietly in place just waiting for the big event to begin.

I did laundry all day Sunday. Not joking. I am really bad about putting off laundry – even though the washer and dryer are in the detached garage. See, if they are in the house, I’m really good about getting it done. But make me have to step outside the house and it gets iffy. So…about 6 loads of laundry later (we will not discuss how much of a clothes horse this makes me, right?) I finally hit the bottom of the pile. While putting stuff up, I ran out of hangers. This prompted me to do something I’ve been intending to do for ages. I pruned my closet. Not my winter stuff, that’s still packed away. Hush, you.

Anyway, I started going through and pulling out items that I never wear…or was able to admit to myself that I’d never be able to wear again. Two boxes later, my closet was still full – but I had enough hangers. I have one or two more items I’m pretty sure I can pack up – then it’s off to SVdP with it all. Most of the salwaar-kameez that I have not made myself are going. They are just too dressy for what I do now days. A shame, but I’m sure someone will love them. Lots and lots of t-shirts, some shoes, jeans, a smaller corset, etc have all hit the good-bye bin.

I really need to get them out for the big stuff, too. Like the bikes, the washing machine, the 3-station gym, etc. Lots of stuff, I agree.

Dancing was nearly painful this weekend. Two of my partners weren’t around. I hadn’t realized how much I depended on W for my one-stepping. And D was gone this weekend as well. I don’t get to dance with him as much as with W – but, he still makes up a significant portion of my dancing time. With both of them gone, it was an eye opener. I actually asked a complete unknown to dance.

Ok, you don’t understand. In my upbringing – a woman does NOT ask someone she doesn’t know to dance. Um…that makes me sound older than I am – but, it’s reality. It just feels bad, wrong, completely inappropriate. Anyway, he agreed and *blinks* he’s a um…strong…lead. He literally picked me up a time or two. I’m no lightweight. I liked him, though I’m not sure I’d be too keen on dancing with him often.  It was an interesting experience and definitely not difficult to follow.

It wound up to the point, after B left for the night, that I started dancing with H (B’s daughter). Yes. I was dancing with another woman. She’s a darn fine lead, too. I’d dance with her again. The only awkward thing was that I literally tower over her.

Saturday night wasn’t quite so bad. I had one or two guys I’ve seen there regularly who have gotten the “ok nod” from B. B looks out for me and warns me of the people to avoid, etc. He’s a good guy. Anyway, so I got a few more dances on Saturday night. However, not nearly as many as I am used to.

Another thing to note is that I did not care for the DJ the last two nights either. Also, I was dressed up a lot more than normal both nights. It’s a guarantee that when I dress up, I will not be approached. The more “down” I dress, the more I am approached. I have not quite figured this one out, yet. Guys are weird.

But, B had said that the crew dresses up on the first Friday – so dress up I did. I looked pretty darn good too. Not to mention, ironically, B and I matched – so it looked really good when we danced together. I had on my white dress with the gold, silver and copper sequins, my swing dancing shoes (the ones I have to carry in) and I actually wore my pearls and gold jewelry. I got lots and lots of compliments from the regular crew. So, it was good. I felt good about myself and that’s always a good thing.

Saturday I got the wild hair to clean out some closets and put some of my way too many clothes into boxes for St. Vincent de Paul. It’s rather frightening to realize I can go over a month without doing laundry and still have nearly a full closet of clothes. It was this realization that made me decide I needed to seriously prune.

While I was digging through closets, I found my old dancing boots. I squealed and bounced and promptly wore them Saturday night out dancing. Oh wow. I totally remembered why I love them so much. Nothing special about them, really. They are just laceup ropers – but they sit on the foot just right, support my ankles and slide across the floor like nobody’s business.

I actually accepted dances from some new faces this weekend. Some were really new to dancing; but, all did well. And, I turned down my first person in the history of me dancing – ever. Yes, I mean that literally (if we are talking C&W dancing). I had watched him on the floor earlier in the night and commented that he looked like he was getting high voltage shocks through the soles of his shoes. Seriously. He was really enjoying himself and that was great – but – he not only jerked like crazy when he danced…he was one of those guys who kind of gropes and rubs. No thanks. So, when he asked me to dance, I thanked G-d profusely for having twisted my knee the previous dance.

I never thought I’d be thankful for that annoyance. The guy I’d danced with the previous song had tripped me while we were dancing. He is one of those dancers who believes everyone else on the floor needs to get out of his way. And, if they don’t, they deserve what they get. I don’t care for that kind of attitude, realistically. But, he seemed like a nice enough guy for the most part, so I accepted his dance offer. Until he commented that the Air Force was not really a military branch.

Let’s just say…I have the utmost respect for those on the front lines. However, something people need to realize is that – there are times when the Air Force is the front lines. And, more and more, my particular niche in the USAF is not just “oh shiney”…it’s necessary. AIA is not some sit back on your keister and eat bon bons and ignore the rest of the world around you kind of job. Lives depend on us – those guys on the front lines want to crap on the work we do…Answer me this. Where do you think your intel is coming from? Who do you think is up in those bright, shiney objects in the sky on “you fly you die” days? Who do you think keeps your satellites operating as they should? Oh…and by the way – I’d like for you, while you are at it, to tell all those Marines, Navy and Army personnel who were stationed at every base I was at that they weren’t real military as well.

Ok, ok…I promise, rant ended. It’s one of those triggers for me. Sure, it might be shiney and pretty – but…I respect you, you respect me – and the team effort we result in sure goes a lot further.

Anyway – needless to say, I found various reasons to not dance with him for the rest of the night lest I slip and slam my elbow into his nose.

Sunday, I puttered around the house a bit more, cleaned a bit, played AoC for a little bit (not much, finding I can’t sit still all that easily, now)…and was just getting ready to jump in the shower when I got a call from my friend that they were just down the road and exactly how did they get here…Yeah. Two hours earlier than I expected them. Those who know me know I don’t do well when my intended schedule gets upended – especially when I feel I’m running behind.

So, I snapped and snarled and growled and barked a bit…and they sat on my couch and read and pretty much ignored my snarling until I said I was ready to go. We went to the Olive Garden and had a tasty dinner – love their bread and salad. I had my first fried food since I opted to seriously cut back (calamari) and then had ravioli in marinara. It was a nice meal. We came back to the house and chattered for a few hours longer while I sat and knit and they played with the dogs.

Overall – it was a very, very delightful evening…the perfect end to a nice weekend.

Then, today, after work, I went by The Knitting Nest and picked up what I needed to make my little cousin’s Christmas present. A very, very simple baby tunic. The yarn is a cute pink colourway and I got the most adorable sheep button for the closure. I really hope it turns out as cute as I think it will – and that they don’t beat me too badly for choosing pink. Hey! At least I made sure it could be machine washed ((you really don’t know how hard that is to find in a high quality yarn shop until you have to do it)). The yarn I’m using is mostly cotton with some peruvian wool – so it will be cozy for southern Alabama without being too horribly over the top.

The guy who instructs is very clear and explains why you are doing what you are doing. He walks you through each section of a dance step, including spins and turns, very carefully and without music. After you do it a few times without music, together, he then puts on some music and takes you through it a couple of times again. He was teaching a step I’m not too horribly keen on – I’d much rather one step to those types of songs for the most part.

I wound up dancing the jitterbug just about every time one got played. I love that dance, and adore Romero for teaching me. It’s just so fun. The last one we danced, I swear I was laughing through the whole thing.

I enjoyed the night so much, actually, that I was out until after 1am just dancing and talking and generally enjoying myself. Of course, I didn’t enjoy the alarm clock being obnoxious a few hours later – but, it was worth it.

Aside from just flat out loving to dance…I’m really coming to like and sincerely appreciate the group of people I get to hang out with and chat with on these nights. I think it’s a little ironic. I go from doing nothing but working and going home and playing my games/knitting/reading…to working and then being out 5 nights a week. When I decide to do something, I dive right in.

It was the same way with smoking (in an opposite sort of way). I decided to stop smoking – I stopped. Just like that, yes. I decided to keep a tight rein on my drinking – I keep a tight rein on my drinking. I finally decided to stop biting my nails – I stopped biting my nails.

I don’t know – it’s kind of like there is some little mental trigger, and when I finally reach a decision…that’s it. There’s no equivocating, no back and forth, no struggle…it’s just how it is. Period.

Of course, changing my mind after I make a decision is like an uphill battle in full plate armor with boiling oil pouring down on your head and bees inside your helm…but, that’s another story.

Edit: My friend Kate commented:

Don’t forget the hot lava flowing down the hill which burns you bit by bit. Until you realize that despite the fact that you started out to change [Kittie's] mind, you’ve now been worn down into a little stump of charred ash that agrees with her.

Interestingly, right before I had scheduled myself to come home, I saw someone walking off the dancefloor and did a double take. It was someone I used to work with at Dell a few years ago. At least, I was pretty sure it was. I’d only gotten a fleeting glance at him. So, I stepped it out a little bit and reached him. I tapped his shoulder and he turned around and sure enough – it was my old coworker.

I was a bit dumbfounded. We’d just been talking about him earlier that day – the first time he’s come up in conversation in quite some time. So seeing him in person at the last place I expected to ever see him was quite a shocker. We did a quick spin around the floor – he did a step I’d never done before, so I got to learn something new, too. It was really neat in an odd and quirky sort of way.

For those of you who keep asking – yes, I’m knitting. I’ll pull out the camera and take some photos of the completed projects shortly – the one in progress will get no press until it’s been given to its recipient, however. It’s a surprise for the person and I don’t want them finding out about it by reading my blog. *grins*

And on another note.  Those of you who have seen me lately have seen that I’ve had two tone hair.  Blonde toward the base and dark brown about halfway down and to the ends of my hair.  I have – oddly enough – gotten a lot of compliments on my hair this way.  From people I’d never have expected it – however, I am in the process of returning it to my natural shade and so the blonde will be gone as of this weekend.  It may come back, though, given how many people seemed to like the odd colouring *chuckles*

I twisted my knee about a week ago by stepping wrong. Nothing catastrophic or anything. I just put my foot down at an odd angle and my knee’s been griping about it ever since. Well, last night I managed to twist it again, but good. I still finished out the night dancing; but, that knee is definitely not happy with me.

A very cool thing about the night was that I wore the t-shirt K gave me a couple years ago that says “Schrodinger’s Cat is Dead” on the front and “Schrodinger’s Cat is Not Dead” on the back. I happen to love this t-shirt. Much love for the shirt. *grins* Anyway, this guy was there talking to some peeps and saw me sit down. He read my shirt and said, “The cat is dead. That’s all there is to it? I hope not.”

I laughed and stood up and turned around so he could read the back of the shirt. At which point the people he had been talking to got utterly confused looks on their faces when he said, “Ah, that’s better.” So, of course, the whole Schrodinger’s Cat thing had to be explained. At which point one of the people perked up and started chattering a bit about it.

The original fellow who mentioned my shirt is a nice, young man who is in the process of learning to dance so he can dance at his wedding. Interestingly enough, he was there solo as was I, so we paired up. He’s got a great sense of rhythm and I don’t doubt he’ll be spinning around the floor like an old hand fairly soon. Hey, he even managed to catch me one time when my knee tried to give out – and he’s got the waltz down cold.

After class, he and I sat and chattered for a while about a very wide range of topics that I’m not used to being able to discuss with just one person. I actually really like this fellow and would love to get to meet up with him and his fiancé at some point and just hang out. From what I can gather, she’s got to be a pretty spectacular woman. He also seems to have some friends who chatter on about such topics as we were covering last night – I didn’t have anything to write on; but, I did give him the URL of this site to contact me when he mentioned it would be cool to see me when they all gathered together. Here’s hoping he remembered what it was. *chuckles*

I’m not sure how keen I am on the Broken Spoke. The dance floor is nice – small but nice. The atmosphere is smoke free, which is a plus. However, they charge $2 for a small bottle of water and do not provide water on tap. This is a serious problem for me. I go through water like it’s going out of style. Seriously. I drink water like crazy when I’m dancing. I have to. At $2 a pop…I’d easily spend $40 without ever leaving a tip if I stayed a whole night. So making it a regular hang out for dancing isn’t going to happen. Then there are the classes themselves. I don’t know what to make of this dance step. It’s nice, but I danced for many years before stopping – and not once did any of my dance partners use this version of the two step. I have the concept down – that’s great. I could do it if a partner ever did branch out to that style of two step. Which I suppose is a good thing. I guess, reality is, I just am not a huge fan of the Broken Spoke. Ironically, more because of charging me for water than anything else, I think. Boy, have I become quasi stingy with the dough.

However, I had a delightful time and really enjoyed meeting the individual who was my dance partner.

It was ladies’ night, so of course the women significantly out numbered the men. Plus, all the regular dance partners were around. When I’m going up by myself, and am making myself known to a new, established group, this means I do a lot of sitting around. However, I did get to dance a fair bit and really enjoyed myself.

The smoke didn’t start kicking in until around 10, so it was even easy on my lungs.

There’s still a lot I have to re-learn and just flat out learn; but, so far, the guys have been really good about asking me to dance anyway. And, when they know I’ve not done something before, they actually walk me through what they are going to do before they do it. It makes the dance less mindless, but better for me getting to know how they dance. Eventually, if they keep dancing with me, they’ll start asking me more and we’ll start fitting together better on the dance floor.

For this reason, I’m going to the classes tonight – to learn the steps I’m new to, and to work on the stuff I’m very rusty with. I just hope there’s another solo person there, or I could wind up just watching the classes instead of participating. That might be awkward. Anyway – it was a fun night. I laughed a lot and enjoyed myself…until the drive home.

I left about 10:20pm. Yes, that’s a bit early; but, I wanted to get home and get my shower and maybe an hour in the WAR beta before crashing out. The drive home is generally 30 min. Yeah. I got home at 11:45pm. I have got to find a better way home. They have the highway ripped up and two lanes closed down from Pfluggerville well past 183. It took me an hour to get from GCS to 183. From there, it was smooth sailing because I took 183 over to Mopac and then flew down south from there and cut back over after all the caca on I-35.

Needless to say, I didn’t get my time in the WAR beta – nor in AoC. Ah well.

Life happens. At least I’m living it again.