Tag: salsa

Cat Dancing

Dancing in the light

Cats watch from their safe spaces

Their crazy human

Sway to the music

Now observe my nimble feet

And salsa with me

Cool cat on the floor

Tango, flamenco, olé!

No lessons required

Every morning I dance around my bedroom while the cats watch in either fascination or revulsion. Sometimes I swoop in and bring one or another along on my wild pagan romp. They endure the experience with a stoicism the ancient Greeks would have admired. Here’s my actual cat, Patches, watching my dance routine:

Salsa School Dropout

Wednesday evening I had the rare choice of attending two events. One, an informational meeting about a women’s salsa group, had been on my calendar for weeks. The other, a movie night with a friend and her daughters, had come up on the spur of the moment.

Since I was really curious about the salsa group, I gave my regrets to my friend and headed to a dance studio in Tallahassee. I arrived just as an exercise class called “Twerk It!” was ending. A combination of hip hop and Zumba, the class looked like exhausting fun. 

Slowly the Twerk It! group left the building in groups of twos and threes and the salsa instructor appeared. She was an attractive, fit woman in her mid-30’s who quickly got into her spiel about the joys of Touch Salsa, a franchised program that can apparently be found worldwide.

As she spoke I became more excited. Not only did participants get to learn salsa routines, but they could participate in dance competitions as part of a larger group. And, they got to wear cute dance costumes. Count me in!

Now, the Facebook ad for this class indicated it was informational only, so I’d worn my flip flops. BIG mistake! I cannot emphasize this enough. 

The instructor had us line up behind her to learn a few basic steps. I was doing fine until I had to do a right turn. My flip flops stuck to the floor and guess who went sprawling? Yep, me.  

Undeterred I shook it off and got up in time to tackle a left turn. I knew better than to try to pivot this time, so I sort of hopped. It wasn’t pretty, but I stayed upright.

Finally our little group got through five basic steps. That’s when the instructor added in the arm movements. I’m fairly sure that had anyone been watching my gesticulations they would’ve felt compelled to notify emergency personnel.

I abandoned trying to follow the instructions and just did a variation of waving my hands in the air like I just didn’t care. The instructor gave me a look of pure, unadulterated disgust. Can you blame her? I’m sure she thought I wasn’t trying. But the sad truth is, I was trying really hard. 

So, I decided the Touch Salsa class wasn’t for me, and after paying my $5.00 I told the instructor I wouldn’t be participating. I might be imagining things, but I’m pretty sure she breathed a sigh of relief.

Now about that Twerk It! class? That might be right up my alley. Stay tuned.

http://youtu.be/WQGSWBkJW84
Peace, people!

Mi Favorita

vessel clean, bone dry
scrubbed until nothing
of substance remains.

colors long faded, rust
brown in the deep bowl
long dormant orange-red

stripes run horizontal
on a sad blue-tinged,
chipped background.

perched on a shelf behind
a small glass pitcher
and an oval turkey platter

brought out for special
occasions calling for
authentic Mexican salsa

the hot stuff made with
jalapeños and cilantro
chased with cold Corona.

  

What Ails Me

Each morning I wake up and think, “Today’s the day this cold virus is officially going to stop messing up my life.” So far I’ve been wrong, but since when has that stopped me?

My nights are marked by throat tickling coughs that I try my best to hold in until I almost explode, and my days are spent fighting the dizziness and nausea brought on by draining sinus passages. In other words, I’m a real hoot to be around right now.

I take one medication for this symptom, another for that. My bathroom counter looks like the inside of Walgreens. Let’s spin the wheel and see what works this time.



My favorite “medication” is spicy Mexican food, so I’m self-medicating at Tijuana Flats, a great little place near Florida State University, that carries its own line of salsas:

I’m desperately hoping my cure resides in one of these containers. They did load my meal up with extra jalapeños–they take great care of me here. 

I stopped drinking my hot toddy mixture. The whisky was tasting just a little too good, if you know what I mean. Oh, who am I kidding? I ran out of the stuff and Studly won’t fetch me a new bottle. 

If you have a favorite end of cold remedy please share. I need to get well. 

Peace, people