The music sweets me so is a line from a children’s book, The Dancing Granny, written by Ashley Bryant. That phrase is an appropriate one for how music impacts me.
I love music and dancing so much that I pretty much can not listen to any music except jazz or classical music if I want to get out of my door. Music with a beat compels me to dance. When I dance I am a different person. In my “girlish” days – I went to Biff’s nearly every Saturday night for years. (Yes, I was a Biffette.) I never had a drink other than Perrier or club soda or orange/cranberry juice mixed. I was there to dance! And, oh boy, did I.
Today I walked to the post office while listening to my ipod. (Thanks hubby for this wonderful gift.) Sometimes one song or a short sequence of songs will captivate me and I’ll keep playing them over and over. Today Phil Perry’s version of Hey, There Lonely Girl captured me. I must have listened to it ten times on the walk home.
I made plans to grab my husband when I got home, put one ear plug in his ear, keep on in my ear and dance to this song. In the meantime, I sang the song softly to myself and avoided the urge to just walk up to a guy and ask him to dance. I wish we lived in a world where it was acceptable to just break out dancing. The need to dance was a physical ache/demand for me. All I could do was just sashay on home – do the things I needed to do (check emails, fold a load of clothes, put a second coat of paint on an art deco style umbrella stand I’m refinishing, prepare dinner, finish reading the paper). So, I did all these things and waited to ambush my husband with a slow dance when he got home.
Attached is a short piece that I wrote almost in one sitting during my Biff’s days. The longing expressed in the story is something I really felt.
I love music and dancing so much that I pretty much can not listen to any music except jazz or classical music if I want to get out of my door. Music with a beat compels me to dance. When I dance I am a different person. In my “girlish” days – I went to Biff’s nearly every Saturday night for years. (Yes, I was a Biffette.) I never had a drink other than Perrier or club soda or orange/cranberry juice mixed. I was there to dance! And, oh boy, did I.
Today I walked to the post office while listening to my ipod. (Thanks hubby for this wonderful gift.) Sometimes one song or a short sequence of songs will captivate me and I’ll keep playing them over and over. Today Phil Perry’s version of Hey, There Lonely Girl captured me. I must have listened to it ten times on the walk home.
I made plans to grab my husband when I got home, put one ear plug in his ear, keep on in my ear and dance to this song. In the meantime, I sang the song softly to myself and avoided the urge to just walk up to a guy and ask him to dance. I wish we lived in a world where it was acceptable to just break out dancing. The need to dance was a physical ache/demand for me. All I could do was just sashay on home – do the things I needed to do (check emails, fold a load of clothes, put a second coat of paint on an art deco style umbrella stand I’m refinishing, prepare dinner, finish reading the paper). So, I did all these things and waited to ambush my husband with a slow dance when he got home.
Attached is a short piece that I wrote almost in one sitting during my Biff’s days. The longing expressed in the story is something I really felt.