Shake what yo' mama gave you

As I'm in a new place, I figure that I should be open to new experiences (still not going to buy lamb lung from the grocery store, but one has to set limits somewhere). Bearing this in mind, I agreed to go to a dance class at the YWCA last night. Now, those of you who know me well will know that voluntary dancing and I coincide only on certain very rare occaisions, such as New Year's Eve, or 3am at Ben and Eric's house (maybe not so rare, then, but specific).

Well, I decided that I'd been sitting in my apartment doing much of nothing for the past week, so why not give it a shot? I did musical theater! I can learn choreography! Yes! The stage is calling! So, full of the possibility of Fosse-ing my way through life, I came along.

What I didn't realize until I arrived was that there would be no Fosse. Oh, no. This was a belly dancing class!! Taught in Hebrew and Arabic! Luckily, no one else had ever done this either, and most of it is pretty simple - something I can't pronounce is just a ball change (see, I did learn something from Karen while doing Fame!), and quite few of the steps mimic the way you'd move while walking in high heels (ok, so I haven't really mastered that, but...).

You never know - I think I just may be convinced to go back...