Monday, November 13, 2017

Good morning crew,

The wife finally did it. Her dance school promoted her. Last night she went from being a beginner (I think the official term they use is 'maladroit') to a bronze level dancer. And it only took her four months. Who says she's not a prodigy?

The whole event took place at a banquet hall downtown where maybe 50 or 60 or so students, along with the instructors and professionals (and maybe some of the wait staff, it was hard to tell), put in a good 8 hours of tangoing, foxtroting, waltzing and swinging.

Add in the spectators like me and it ended up being quite a crowd.

Unlike the 'showcase' that the wife participated in a couple months ago where the dance floor was mobbed by dozens of couples at a time, the Medal Ball, as they call it, features each student alone with their instructor dancing in front of a judge. This way they can determine whether or not the student is bronze material.

The wife did a tango, and from what I can tell it went off pretty well. She didn't fall or injure her partner, or cause any property damage. She even managed to work a little taekwondo into her routine.

When it was over I said, "What happens now?"

She told me she won't know until next week when she gets her evaluation from the judge.

So I asked, "Does anybody ever fail the medal ball? I mean, does anybody ever not get promoted?"

"I suppose if you just stood in the middle of the dance floor and didn't move a muscle when the music started," she said, "that might be a problem."

She paused and thought about it for a second and added, "Or if your check didn't clear."

But barring this last disqualifier the wife is now a bronze dancer. And while it took her a bit of work to get this far, it's only the beginning.

The levels go Bronze, Silver, Gold and then, I think, Electrum and Iridium. After that she qualified to be a judge on Dancing with the Stars.

So she still has a long way to go. As long as the checks continue to clear.

Laugh it up,

Joe

joe@gophercentral.com

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***
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***
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***
A member of a diet club bemoaned her lack of will-power. She had made her family's favorite cake over the weekend, she explained, and they had eaten half of it. The next day, however, the uneaten half beckoned. She cut herself a slice. Then another, and another. By the time she had polished off the cake, she knew her husband would be disappointed.

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*-------------- Guaranteed to Roll Your Eyes --------------*
One day my housework-challenged husband decided to wash his sweatshirt. Seconds after he stepped into the laundry room, he shouted to me, "What setting do I use on the washing machine?"

"It depends," I replied. "What does it say on your shirt?"

"University of Oklahoma," he yelled back.