Dancing

So I felt the inspiration, and between kneading my bread dough (challah yum!) and emailing and reading webcomics and playing with the cat, I got out my choli, skirt, and coin belt and danced. I hadn't for a while - my old studio is of course in Boise, and I loved Mearah - she had a good, very positive atmosphere, where I didn't feel like an orca trying to shimmy. I can't really afford it yet, but I'm starting to look around online for local studia where they teach raqs sharqui that isn't too fancy-schmantzy über-skinny tanned super-cabaret, but reasonably authentic, reasonably priced, and maybe reasonably close.

I miss dancing. luckily, I have lots of time alone in the apartment to do that, with only the cat to watch me with alternating fascination and disdain, but I miss the camaraderie of being the Wednesday night class. We even had a name . . . I can't remember. Desert Flowers? Desert Breezes? Desert Winds? Watching Oksanna's beautiful hand motions, even though she'd never come stand up front.

I never even got to perform outside. :(