Wednesday, October 14, 2009

She is Electric. I am Not Wired Right.

While normally not the most socially mobile humans presently holding fast to the terra firma we all share, this month seems as if it has been an extraordinarily busy one for the Missus and me. Our dance card has been full enough that our quality time on the couch watching Court TV has taken a serious hit since September took its final bow and gave way to The Great Pumpkin's moment in the moonlight.

Friday night we shall be in attendance when two friends of ours are married. I do not know of an easier gig in the world than being a wedding guest. We get dressed up, we do a little bit of driving and from the moment of arrival, our work is done (unless one counts that ever-so-annoying clinking of champagne glasses to coerce a smooch out of the bride and groom to be work). We sit back, relax and enjoy the evening.

I am always a bit surprised when we receive an invitation to a wedding that does not involve a family member since I presume those related by blood and/or marriage feel some sense of obligation to extend the invitation. I have never been mistaken for one of those folks whose presence brightens a room - absence perhaps but never presence - so I marvel at the thought that someone who knows me but has no familial connection to me has invited me to be in attendance when he or she takes an extraordinarily significant step.

Upon further reflection, I presume that what they really want is Margaret there - given her almost non-stop presence on the dance floor during any reception. They presume correctly that the principal function I have fulfilled in almost two decades together is that I drive the car. For the life of me, I know not where my wife learned the steps to every dance ever danced that involves a large group of participants - as opposed to couples - but she knows them all: the Macarena, the Chicken Dance, the Electric Slide all jump immediately to mind. I often think that Margaret would have made a great Fascist for no reason other than her uncanny ability to move in a synchronized fashion to some sort of musical accompaniment with an unlimited number of others. I know not how great the distance is between a duck walk and a goosestep but I would wager that my wife can cover it in an effortless, rhythmic fashion.

Me? Huge surprise I am sure that I am not much of a dancer - either in amount of enthusiasm or level of ability. As I am fond of pointing out to Margaret, once upon a time I could dance a little. Well, in the interests of full disclosure, I would dance a little. Whether what I did actually passed for either dancing or a reasonable facsimile thereof I shall leave to more learned eyes than mine. Whatever the hell you want to call it, I did it. And I did it with aplomb! Presuming of course that aplomb - like beauty - is in the eye of the beholder.

Foolishly (or perhaps wisely), my wife passed up a chance to see me cutting rugs with impunity when she respectfully suggested years ago that I embrace sobriety - as opposed to giving it an occasional, knowing wink and nod. Then, freed of my senses at occasions such as proms, holiday parties and wedding receptions, I would succumb to my impulse to trip the light fantastic. Now I merely trip over the occasional pothole while taking my early morning run. Considering that there is almost always someone at a prom, a holiday party or a wedding reception with a video camera and there is never anyone present with one during my early morning run, there is less long-term fallout and discomfort associated with the latter than there ever was with the former.

I think that she thinks that my tumble Monday morning that resulted in me spraining my right ankle was a bit convenient. As if I would stoop so low. After all, we have been together a long time. I long since learned that it is never the size that matters - it is deceit she can't abide.

Besides running around in circles, chasing my own tail sounds an awful lot like my signature dance move. If you do not believe me, then wait until you see the video.


No comments: