Last Saturday I went to a square dance that was held at Leo and Leona’s. My Parents, Robert, Colleen, Clare, and a Ukrainian exchange student friend of Colleen’s also were there.
The fact that the dance gave me an opportunity to wiggle into wranglers and put my cowboy boots back into commission, made me a happy woman. Drinking a gin and tonic and ordering a second against the advice of Robert also brightened my spirits. Although my spirits were high, my memory wasn’t. Generally, a few helpful skills for ones success at square dancing are: Memory, a attention span that is longer then like 20 seconds, rhythm, and a crazy bright IQ that knows the directions right from left.
Oops-all of those slight skills were sorely lacking. Giggling nonstop and kicking up my heels were the only fortes that I amply possessed.
Somehow, I managed to forget that I had run 6.5 miles and declared war on my garden and raked the muddy yard earlier on. Therefore, drinking was a very very bad idea.
The extreme challenge of detecting right from left wasn’t the only challenge that I faced. I also had the problem of John. For those of you that don’t know John, he is the 50 something year old developmentally disabled foster son of a couple that my parents are friends with. Because his foster parents own the greenhouse that my Dad rents space at, I have had many run-ins with him. He is obsessed with my hair and has gone as far as to write a letter to my Father asking to date me. His affections towards me are like mean karma. Long, long ago he liked my sister Kate. At this time I found his interests in her a most amusing comedy. But after Kate grew up and moved to the city, his interests boomerranged and came right back to the family tree….. me. Now Kate’s entirely unsympathetic towards my plight from him and tells me that I am getting just what I deserved.
A few weeks ago, I was at the farm he lives at helping a crew of guys to get the green house up and running for the season. I had my hair braided and a power drill in my hand. At this point being a pretend carpenter was more of a problem then John’s presence.
But not at the dance! By the time I finished dancing a call with John, I was cured of my laughter. Suddenly, square dancing, the extreme complexity of lefts and rights, and John’s own laughter and hugs didn’t hold much amusement.
I think that wise women sticks to what she is good at. I am pretty decent at playing at sports. I also am a fantastic water chugger. Also, I have super natural instincts of telling up from down. Maybe I should stick to these skill sets in the days to come. Plus, with the weather becoming absolutely beautiful again, I don’t have to find an excuse to wear my boots and wranglers. Now I can swoop around the fields and pastures on my quarter horse without the added distractions that I listed above.
More about Mary’s adventures at Leo and Leona’s here:
More about her Russian Mission trip here: