Dancing doesn’t come easy to me. I’ve got several left feet and it’s taken many years of practice to avoid falling into a heap on the floor.

Recently, some friends of ours insisted that Pam and I dance to some tune that we’re unfamiliar with. The song was pretty fast so we danced a hustle. 

Neither of us were wearing dance shoes and it wasn’t the best dance floor but we weren’t embarrassing ourselves or anything. 

“Smile, Steve” shouted someone (that would be you, Leta). I’m furiously concentrating when I’m dancing (not stepping on Pam’s feet, not stepping on MY feet, not falling in a heap on the floor, quick quick slow, etc.). Our instructor tells me that I look romantic like this but I don’t get it. 

I started thinking. “This dance isn’t that tough. I got this. I can crack a smile for gosh sake!”

Pam went right, I went left. We were a few feet apart with our backs to each other. What the heck?

I guess I’ll need to practice that some more.