First, I received a great "Dear Jamy" question late yesterday, but I'm going to answer it tomorrow. (Note: I am not inundated with questions, so if you are holding back from writing, don't. Also, if you are worried about anonymity, I can change some details in your letter so your identity will be thoroughly obscured. Do include this request in your email.)
Second, last night I had a great time meeting a fellow blogger, V(espertine), who was in town for a couple of days. We enjoyed a nice meal, though we agreed that our waiter was an odd duck. Actually, he was downright rude. Odd--leaning against a piller when taking our order. Rude--asking if we needed change over his shoulder when he took our tab away. He got a touch over 15% tip (on the before tax total) because we're just that nice.
After dinner, we went swing dancing. The Monday night dance is full of regulars. I described myself as an irregular regular. We ran into CK, who V described as charming. Quite accurate. I said, "CK is great--in fact, she's one of my best audiences." CK is a regular regular these days. Since V was an unknown quantity, she didn't get asked to dance very much at first, but she assured me that she enjoyed watching the dancers and was having fun. A friend of CK's found a couple of partner's for V (wow, I would never be so bold!) and she was off. She could dance and spent plenty of time on the floor. Very nice twirly skirt, by the way.
It was a good dancing night for me. I was on--not in a flashy way, but I felt good on the floor, I clicked with most of my leads and I stayed in an upbeat mood the entire night. It helped that I avoided dancing with two of my least favorite scary old guys. V pointed one of them out to me, "Look at him--comb-over gone wrong." So true and so sad.
The other scary guy has made not-so-subtle racist comments to me about my neighborhood in the past. CK, who is black, said, "He never asks me to dance."
I said, "He's a racist."
She said, "Oh. That might explain it."
I said, "It's really lose-lose dancing with him. He can't dance at all. [He sands in one place and rocks back and forth. Occasionally, he spins you. That's it.] And he talks the whole time. And I don't want to hear what he has to say."
Big laugh from CK.
I decided several months ago that I wasn't going to dance with him again. Being a bad dancer wouldn't have stopped me from a perfunctory one-dance-a-night deal, but the racism pushed me over the top. He's going to impose his bad-dancing self on everyone except CK? Loser. Amusingly, his bigotry works in her favor--she has never had to dance with him.
After I dropped V off, I was wide awake and broke my rule and turned on the tv. Mistake. Even though I was falling asleep watching the tv, I didn't drag myself to bed until nearly 1am. No excuse for that. Now I am groggy at work and not matching the heights of productivity I reached last week. Sigh. At least it's only Monday. Um, no it's not. Dammit.
Grateful for: dancing.
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