dancing

Yesterday, we had two dances with a potluck dinner in between. The afternoon dance was advanced, with one of my favorite callers in the universe (LL) leading. Her husband danced with us and then for the evening dance they switched roles -- he called and she danced.

One of the things that I love about our advanced dances with LL is that she thinks of them as collaborative efforts. She can experiment with newer dances or throw slight twists into old favorites, and she asks for feedback. At times, we'll try a dance several times before she gets the calls right or the dancers figure out what we're supposed to do, though that didn't happen yesterday.

What did happen was that the musicians played up to their usual high standards, but to my ear, they were not matching the tunes to the dances. It was as if they were playing to some other dance program. It was subtle, but frustrating. When I thought the dances called for utter exuberance, the musicians toned it way down. They played smoothly when we should have been bouncing, and bouncily when we wanted to be smooth. And then, every now and then, they hit the mark, and it was heavenly.

The potluck was one of those surprise affairs that started out looking like we'd get six attendees. Then suddenly, there were 30 or so of us. I was really glad I made an entree, because it was one of the only dinner-like items there. My dish was even praised by one person, an avid cook. So phew.

And then the evening dance was great. The musicians played extremely familiar traditional tunes but with a smooth sultry twist. A few people complained that they couldn't always hear the beat (and with this type of dancing, we nearly always adhere to a strict eight beats a measure, unless we're dancing in waltz time). To be honest, I couldn't always hear the beat either, but the music and the calling and the two combined were so pleasurable that I didn't care.

And the people were of course wonderful. We laughed and flirted and helped each other, and just had a fine time. Two friends who had lost a late pregnancy a few years ago brought their baby -- an extroverted nine-month old. His mom puts him in a carrier facing out and dances while he grins wildly and kicks his feet. At one point when I was supposed to be looking at her, I caught his eye and smiled and he smiled back. I wonder if he'll be dancing better than the rest of us as soon as he can walk.

Oh, I should also mention that we went indoors when the temps were in the 50s, skies were blue, and the ground in Boston (though not at home) was clear of all snow. Our second band was named White Squall, and that's exactly what we saw when we came outside -- a swirl of a snow storm. Temps were high enough, though, that nothing was sticking, so the ride home was easy. This morning, the roads and driveways are clear, and the existing snow on the ground has been "freshened up" a bit. How pretty.

Sometimes it seems like a pain to go into a dance, or I feel all comfy at home, and then I go and I'm so happy to be there. As a somewhat introverted person, dance is surprisingly renewing for me.