Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Hope's new dailure

I received a gift certificate for a 'spa' day at one of the local House of Put-Yourself-Together, so I went and got a mani-pedi and a facial and then I'd had enough and noticed there was a schedule for dance classes.  I was so excited because it said, "Street Dance".  I took this to mean it wasn't:  Pilates, aerobics, yoga, kick-boxing, etc... I thought, 'great a unadulterated dance class', a class for
'pure' movement, with music.  Something where I don't have to worry about whether I'm 'hitting' my abs, butt, upper biceps, lower biceps, quads, blah, blah, blah.  

I dragged my 17 year old daughter and the woman teaching the class, probably in her 60's, with tatoos ALL over her body, came out and in a raspy, whisky-like, voice, proclaimed to be our teacher.  There were only four in the class.  But when she put on the music and started moving, with eyes closed, I knew I was home.  I LOVED IT!  And so did my daughter.  In spite of the fact that neither one of us knew what we were doing and we were tripping over one another we had a wonderful time!

What a pleasure!  We are going back.

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