shimmy & shake

continuing our much loved tradition of taking classes together whenever possible, my friend jacky & i attended our first beginner egyptian belly dancing class last night. the location: the ever-so-charming boys' weight room at central tech high school. while waiting around for our instructor to appear, we were shooting the shit (as we are wont to do) and i wondered aloud who would wear an ankle length polyester skirt & white ruffled blouse to a belly dancing class.

that would, of course, be our instructor.

since the massive skirt obscured her legs, she would hike it up around her waist to give us a better view of what our legs & hips were supposed to be doing. a bit strange. and if that weren't odd enough, she exuded all the warmth and grace of a department store mannequin. ok, maybe a bit more grace than that, but not more warmth. jacky summed it up well: "i think she learned how to belly dance in a soviet prison!". giggles ensued, and we were soundly reprimanded. apparently there is to be no talking during class. we have enough time to spend with our friends afterwards.

near the end of the class i think we started developing a slight case of stockholm syndrome, because we left feeling slightly more graceful & with smiles on our faces. and i guess that's what really counts.

also - thanks for your e-mails about my grandma. she's in the hospital now awaiting surgery, and i hope she'll be better than new afterwards.