I went to the dance last night. Got there about an hour after it started, which is usually when things start to get going. Brother Sushi was already there. I had called him shortly after getting home, to see if he would be there. He was of at least two minds: we have both been singles’ reps, he on the stake level and me for two successive wards. So whenever we can, we show up to support what the other reps are trying to accomplish.
This was supposed to be a 50’s/60’s theme sock hop. When I got there, the DJ was mostly playing salsa and merengue, with a side order of squeaky clean hip-hop. He put on “Suavemente”, and I ambled out onto the floor and loosened up my back a little. Visited briefly with some of my favorite people, exchanged a few hugs, but mostly spent the hour and a quarter I was there, chatting with Brother Sushi.
In the two or so months I’ve been AWOL, a whole new flock of younguns has showed up. Not a bad thing in itself, except as it reflects horrendous personal loss ~ or failure to launch ~ and the destabilization of society in general. [Quick, somebody smack the Irony Fairy before she pops me again.] In theory, that’s a bunch of new friendships just waiting to be developed; in reality, they seemed to hang together in little clumps, while we moldy oldies grabbed the tables and the chairs, the better to rest our weary bones and converse without the use of ear trumpets.
Yeah, I was a little cranky last night. Also tired, also achy, also not liking the music, or the refreshments, or the DJ, or my least-favorite guy my age, who only dances with the young and fertile ones. I don’t want to dance with him, myself; I want him to acquire some manners and acknowledge the existence of women his age and older, even if he isn’t attracted to us.
It was well worth the quarter-tank of gas I used to get there and back, just to visit with Brother Sushi. I am looking forward to next Friday, when we will have our monthly dinner with no distractions.
I am cautiously anticipating the dances at the singles’ conference in three weeks. One of my two favorite DJ’s will be in charge of the music, both nights, so at the very least the music will not stink. That does not guarantee there will be anybody there with whom I want to dance, but I will show up, and I will try to help others have a good time, and I am very much looking forward to hearing Sister Thompson speak at the conference. She is a [single] member of the Relief Society General Presidency.
For my friends who are not LDS: this is roughly the equivalent of having General Colin Powell show up at the VFW barbecue to say how-do.
This weekend is our semi-annual General Conference, broadcast from Salt Lake. Middlest is setting up her laptop so I can watch/listen over there, and I will be picking up Fourthborn. I’m not sure what they will do while I am watching/listening/knitting, but before, after, and during the break between the morning and afternoon sessions, there will be visiting and laughter and love.
I am really looking forward to getting together with them. And I cannot believe how much healthier I feel today.
I think I will see if I can finish BestFriend’s sock before leaving the house. It’s pretty close to being done; I think less than 20 rounds.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!