"You'd be happy wrapped in my apron strings"
I never did get a call from my co-worker about finding a way to turn off the heat and electricity in our office building …
But we did get the snow (even though it wasn’t the whole 6-12 inches they predicted). And I still had to get by crabby “ga-dunk-a-dunk” out of bed to get to work.
Apparently my “Snow Dance” didn’t work last night. Perhaps I should have done it without my pajamas on?! Na …
Apparently the southeastern portion of Michigan is supposed to be slammed with a major winter storm tonight. It’s supposed to start around midnight and last until 7 pm tomorrow night. It’s about 7:30 pm and as I look outside the window, there’s not a snowflake to be seen.
What gets me is that I wish this storm could have happened on Sunday night for Monday. This year, it seems like Mother Nature gets her kicks in sending a wintery blast our way just before or right on the weekend. I just wish for once that a storm would happen during the first half of the week so that I could have a work “snow day.”
Remember snow days in school? It was so exciting to stay up the night before hoping and praying that it would snow enough so that they would cancel school. I do recall doing the “Snow Dance” with my brother in the middle of our living room to help bring on a storm. And then we’d wake up earlier than normal just so we could turn on the TV to see if our school was listed on the morning newscast as being closed. There was only a handful of times we were disappointed to see that the surrounding school districts were closed except for us … but the majority of the time we were rewarded with the day off.
I miss those days. I miss that feeling of elation when you are rewarded an unexpected day off. And as a child, it wasn’t your responsibility to figure out how to “make the time up.” We just relied on our teachers to rearrange their lesson plans in order to fit everything that was needed.
But now, we’re the ones that have to be responsible. We have to find a way to adjust our schedules so that we can take time off from work, whether it’s planned or unplanned. We have to be ADULTS (gasp!) …
So as I left work for the day, the child in me turned and whispered to my co-worker, “If anyone finds a way to shut down the power and heat to this building, let me know. I’m all for a snow day!”
Alright, I am off now to climb into my jammies and do the “Snow Dance” …
Okay, I have to admit it. I’m a sucker for any shows or movies that involve dancing. Dirty Dancing? Loved it. No one puts Baby in a corner. Hell, I even liked the bad sequel, Dirty Dancing Havana Nights. Bye Bye Birdie? Yup. Gotta love Janet Leigh and Dick Van Dyke. I even love the recent Gap commercial that’s on right now with Claire Danes and Patrick Wilson where they’re dancing to that Broadway Tune. And of course, my all time favorite, Strictly Ballroom. The list can go on and on. There’s just something about dancing that’s to romantic and so graceful and so controlled that I love.
So, it’s no suprise that I’m totally enjoying the Dancing With the Stars series. I’ve watched it on and off over the past few seasons, but watching the first two episodes of this season has already got me hooked. It certainly does help that it’s got “Cliff” from Cheers (John Ratzenberger), Heather Mills (ex-Mrs. Paul McCartney) with her prosthetic leg, and Apollo Ohno (yum). But seriously? It’s really about the dancing. I found myself smiling every time one of the contestants came out; transfixed on their movements. It looks like so much fun and yet so much work. I want to be able to do that someday.
Of course I’ve got two left feet (okay, the Filipina in me might have more like one and a quarter left feet – I have SOME rhythm, after all) so I’d never be Ballroom Competition-worthy. Also, there’s that “thing” about having to let the man take lead – I’m never good at giving up control. Yet, something about it just makes me want to put on those dance shoes (no, not them Doc Marten boots — this isn’t City Club, after all) and grab the hubby and have him lead me in a quick-step or a fox-trot.
I’ll never be Ginger Rogers, nor will my husband be Fred Astaire. But the feeling I have on the occasions where my husband does grab me and lead me in a slow dance around our living room (and I do relinquish that control) … it leaves my head spinning, my heart thumping, and my face smiling … just like it did tonite while watching Dancing With the Stars.