My husband wants to talk about the arrangements. I said, “Oh, those are all Nelson Riddle, I’m sure.” (Close, two were not.) I just want to imagine that I’m dancing with a tall, handsome man.
Sometimes I just have to trick myself into a close encounter with a sink full of soapy water. Hey, why shouldn’t I enjoy myself? Right?
So, on Friday when a new teacher at my school came up to my room to see what I do, we were raucously creating new words from Greek and Latin roots (tele-, circ-, trans-, via-, veni-). He walked in about the time one student misheard telethon.
“Not telethong? What?”
“Nutella?” another asked.
“Oh, no! I have to wash my brain out! I can’t think about that! Don’t make me imagine that,” I said.
(Heard as they left class, “Best English class ever.” A total head fake.)
If it works for them, it can work for me.
“Come on, come on, come on, and dance with me.”
Macro bubbles by chrisdlugosz