I’m not saying every person in New Mexico, or even one person for that matter, is insecure. But take a look at these license plates:
Yes, New Mexico. You’re in the USA. We know. Don’t you know? Did someone challenge you on this to the point that you felt it needed to be emblazoned on every car in the state as a reminder? Friends, go and check your tags. Do other states do this?
Anyway, as I said, complex or not, these people can dance. I took my first salsa class tonight at Dance Station – a place I wandered into while doing laundry in the same shopping center; my life is led by total chance – and it was just delightful. Our instructor is Jason Miller (I know some of you ladies are going to want to check him out, so there you go) and he was great. I got a little lippy, and he didn’t smack me or anything. Very non machismo. Which is good because let’s face it, I could drive any man with even the most minimal machismo level to violent behavior. I’m pretty sure.
There were about 12 people, a few fewer ladies than men, but a pretty decent balance. We learned some steps I was already mostly familiar with (Mom you can tell Miss Pily that in just that one lesson, she did me proud.), so I managed not to fall or step on anyone or trip or anything. I declare a success. AND I was doing something social, Mr. Lindsey of Taos. Mark it down in the books.