You should be dancing

I didn’t listen to Michael Savage last night to see if he had any more digs at the Catholic Church.

I went dancing.

For Valentine’s Day, I’d given my wife ballroom dancing lessons.

She’s good. As for me…

Imagine Curly Howard (Three Stooges) or Oliver Hardy on the dance floor.

(Truth be told, they were both actually good dancers.)

I’m not outrageously bad. As a musician, I have a sense of rhythm. It’s just that us – um – large framed fellows are not always “light” on our feet.

The instructor was talking about being careful with the new dance we were learning (Cha Cha) not to step on our partners’ toes. I turned to the fellow next me and commented that I used to be a basketball player, so I was more concerned about what I might do to the dancers around me with my elbows.

Rebound!

My dear wife and I did okay. No bodily harm inflicted on each other. But boy, my arthritic knee is not happy today.