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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Dance. Dance. Dance. Dance!

Did you read that in the rythm of the song? DANCE! Dance, dance, Dance!

It is Thursday, so tonight I had tango class. More new people, argh. But my teacher is finally saying, “Look, I know it is advertised as drop in, but I’m moving forward anyway.” I finally felt empowered to say to one of the men, “Forget anything you’ve learned about being a sensitive man, it has no place in this room!” He was dancing much better by the end of the night with a little permission to be manly.

Another time, when I got to dance with my teacher, we danced the “sandwich” and then we just kept dancing. Two sandwiches, a basic, and a giro to the right. I just followed his lead and it was so nice. He said, “I’m going to demonstrate with Leah. She’s good to dance with because she knows where her center is, where her weight is.”

On my way home, I had a message from Ronnie. He suggested me to his aunt to perform at the Hadassah Purim Carnival in the burbs. I might still be in Israel, but if I’m in the states, I’m going to do it. It was funny to hear me say to him, “I might be in Israel.” and not the other way around. So I’m going to give her a call tomorrow and find out. He said she would even be willing for me to do my one woman show instead of stand-up.

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