Hi ho, MMMMlogerinos!

TWINKLE TOES WOES
Not unlike a reality show, this is a dance confessional . . . on our ballroom dance lessons the DH and I have been subjecting ourselves to for the last three weeks. The unrelenting hell lasts until the middle of August. Actually, as I've mentioned before, this dance stuff is a great rendering . . . I go instantly red and sweating. The other student dancers probably think I'm going to explode! Me too. Last night we were working on turns and spins. During our best dance, the meringue, my DH raised his arm, bringing mine up and I moved into an expert turn. "Oooo, you stink!" he said. Apparently, my deodorant had failed me--yeah, like the moment I walked in the door of the dancehall. Pressure! I was forced to dance the rest of meringue with my arms tightly to my sides, rather than offend his sensitive proboscis. Very humiliating. Of course, this came right on the heels of another couple asking us if we'd taken the class before. I was feeling pretty great about our magnificent ability until the DH deflated my smelly ego.

Ciao, ciao . . .Ow! mmmmmmmmmmmelinda