Move over, Shakespeare; J. Lo and I gotta get "on the floor"

I've known since I was ten years old (at least that long) that I wanted to be a writer. I've even done that on and off over the years, writing newsletters, magazine articles, marketing materials, press releases, brief how-to booklets, and the rare short story thinly disguising autobiography as fiction (usually unfinished). How do I know that I have known this since I was ten? I apparently saved a paper I had to write for class that year, and in it I predicted I would grow up to be a writer.

This week has shown me that while writing may be woven in and out of my life, there is something much more essential for me. Dancing. OK, this should not have been a big surprise, but it was when I actually stepped back to think about it. I took lessons in dance before I even learned to read. I took lessons in dance that same year I said I would be a writer when I grew up. In  high school, I saved half my lunch money to pay to get into dances on weekends. In high school, I danced with a small crowd of friends at lunch almost daily (plenty of time for it, since I was only buying half a lunch). Air Force years, college years... still went out dancing with friends. The highlight of grad school was being friends with a great local band and going out to see them (and dance) several nights a week. Met the future husband, and got distracted for a few years, since we both think we can dance but apparently we can't do it together.

When my children were half my size, I used to put on headphones (the big ones that pre-date earbuds) and dance out on the deck behind the house, in the dark of early morning or late night. Over the years I tried Jazzercise (my feet couldn't take the strain, as I was getting heavier by then), and a lot of different exercise tapes to music. Then last winter, I took two dance classes at once: zumba with my oldest daughter and tap with my next-younger sister. It was fun, but still not quite the right fit. In May of this year, two friends suggested I try a different zumba setting, at a firehouse social hall near them.

OMG! This is what I have been missing, dancing in a crowd of women (and a few men) of all shapes and sizes, having the time of their life, with two world-class athletes on the platform leading and encouraging us. As they say in their marketing, "Ditch the workout and come to OUR party!" Ten weeks later, I have rebuilt my work schedule for the summer around this, and I come out to dance with the "boys from Brazil" four to seven times a week, giving it everything I've got. And I feel absolutely marvelous, energized and not tired, more resilient and less stressed, and (bonus) I've lost weight. It's a good thing they don't have class on Sundays, or I'd never get the grocery shopping and laundry done!

So, dancing is apparently an essential for me. Who would have guessed something so everyday and anyone-can-do-it would be one of those how-did-I-not-know-this moments? Oops, just noticed the time. I've got to get out the door to get a good space on the dance floor for today's class.

Waking up from an eight month nap

We're not talking the dark night of the soul, or the dark side of the moon, or anything like that, but I noticed I have not written here since just before the elections last November. Eight months ago. I need to fix that.

I realized this morning that if I live to be 80, I have 22 more years to fill between now and then. Even 70 gives me about 4300 days to fill with something interesting and worthwhile. When I was younger, I never expected to make it past 40 years old, since my own mother had died at 40. When that milestone came (and went), I had three children under the age of eight. I didn't have time to wonder how much longer I might live or how I would fill my time. My motto then was "the revolution will have to wait until the laundry is done."

The youngest child is in college now, and they can all pretty much take care of themselves. (They don't always do it, but they can.) My 40 year high school reunion is this fall, and some of my friends will be attending as retirees. I feel a pressing need to get back to being "me" again, instead of mother and wife, employee, and other roles I have occupied over the past years. Some days this feels like a real archeological dig! Other days a sudden insight will come when I do something that reminds me of something I once loved. "Yes! YES! This is part of the essential me!"

Stay tuned. I think this might get interesting.
Loraine