Hooray for short work weeks! Now if only I could finagle my way into paid holidays… that would be great!
Not much is that new around here. I have been taking tango lessons with Amber. It’s pretty fun. We managed to find two places that offer them for free. One is on Thursdays downtown by the Spaghetti Factory. The other is on Tuesday nights in CDA. This last Tuesday was our first visit out there. We got lost. So as we were driving down the street, I saw to couples walking. So Amber pulled over and I rolled down my window to ask then for directions. Apparently, old people get insulated when you ask them where the VFW is. Sheesh. I had no idea! I wasn’t implying that because they were elderly, the served in WWI. I just was hoping that they might know the general direction to go. Seriously. So, take note, don’t ask anyone that looks old where the VFW is, they get all insulated like you called them old to their face. “Oh, no. You don’t look a day over 40. Is that gray your natural color? Have you always had a walker? I’m sure that you just use it to get the handicapped-parking permit. What? You didn’t hear me? Turn up you hearing aid.” Okay, enough of that. I shouldn’t mock old people, I’m headed in that direction faster then I want to admit.
So, we finally found the VFW. The lessons would have been great, if everyone there had brought their grandkids. We did have a pretty good time. There were a total of 10 people there, so it was not possible to sneak out without being noticed, but the teacher was really good. She talked a lot about the basic steps, which really helped out. Our Thursday night teacher, who is much more fun, doesn’t show the basic steps, he says that you just need to feel it. Feel the music. Just follow your partner and let him lead you along. You will naturally fall into place. I did almost fall… on my face. Several times. Wait, that is because I never wear heels and I don’t know how to walk in them, let alone dance in them.

Just a little FYI: Did you know that 49% of all statistics are made up on the spot? I’m eavesdropping on a meeting here at work, and one of the guy’s keeps tossing in numbers like that. Sigh. I’m having a hard time not rolling my eyes….

This weekend is our company golfing trip. We are going to Kimberly, BC. Good old Canada. I don’t have a husband or a boyfriend to take, so in a fit of family inspired craziness I asked my dad to come. At that point he was going to be out of town, so the conversation went more like, “too bad, because we are having this and you wouldn’t be able to come.” So then my dad cancelled his plans. Nice, huh? So he is going. I’m a little worried about the whole thing. If you have read my blog before, you know how I feel about the group of people that I work with. Plus, It’s going to be a long drive up there. Sigh…. Here is little list (because I love lists) of some of the complications I’m sure will be a factor:
- My dad picks on my driving the entire time he is in the car (I’ve had him start before I even sit down).
- We have completely opposite tastes in music. He prefers classical, or old school praise music.
- Anyone ever heard of the Maranatha Band? Ya, there is a reason. Don’t worry, I still all know all their songs by heart.
- I haven’t spent that much consecutive time with my father in…. well… never. I’m not worried about spending time with him; we actually get along really well. We didn’t used to… but that is another blog.