Passover madness. You know, I have been on the warpath, keeping my health going especially during C19 , and thus...I dance. My dance studio is my kitchen. Lo, though thou thinkest thou knowest me, but yeah, thou knowest not. I like rap. I shoop my boop around the floor, shaking it all honeebunee, waving in the air like I just don't care, as Grandmaster Flash once said, and I risk my neighbors looking in and possibly calling an ambulance based on what they see. My sweet evahlovin hubbster, walked in as my back was turned away, shakin what my mama gave me, and then...I turned around to see him with this shxxeating smile. Yup. 20 years of marriage, and all he says is, " Yah, ya know what? You're funny!" Kisses me then walks away to get a cuppa. I think he was in shock. Yeah, I don't have the pop and lock moves I once had, my salsa steps are pretty wack, and when I "be illin' ," that now means I gotta get an advil and some hot tea in bed with a heating pad, but I try. I imagine myself at some dank club, doing some crazy moves, wearing some jacked up vintage whateves, and holding.it.down. I feel like the disco queen! Yup, I'm just cookin' with gas! Maybe that was the yogurt I ate for lunch..urp. Look. I'm 53 but feel 33, and I'm still kinda cute. I love to dance, it gets my cardio in, and I've lost weight. And my mind. I like rap. Don't judge. Or call an ambulance.
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