Realizations and rumblings.

Did I already mention middle age is the time when one's illusions begin to crumble in earnest? (Yes, I did--middle age is also the time when one's memory gets spotty, sorry.) Received an e-mail reply from a couple of friends (who are also a couple) to a comment I made in relation to "Mad Hot Ballroom," in which I wrote of my wish to dance like the little darlin's in the film, but sadly: "This North Woods gal does not now, nor will she ever have, the music in her."

They found that line quite funny, which is the usual human reaction to the truth writ large, so there goes another illusion--though I like to think I have musical sensibilities (I did play clarinet and tenor sax for years, after all), it is widely recognized that I do not have the music. In me, that is.

Which may be different than being musical, this is true--I may be constitutionally incapable of doing a convincing rumba or salsa, but I can follow a tune, keep a beat, and beyond (if only in my mind, not my carcass).

Why this is bothering me today is hard to figure. The upside is that this all may be adapted for use in a future comedy routine--might be a good addition to an expanded bit on the life-affirming joy that isn't the Upper Midwest.

We are not a sultry people. We do not now, nor will we ever have, the music in us.

Needs work--the rule of three applies to all things--but there's something there, really and truly.

On other fronts, Linda's taken off the rest of the week, for we were supposed to be flying out to Las Vegas this weekend for a Peace Corps reunion. We cancelled because of my job situation, of course, and instead we're staying home--well, staying home and doing The Comedy.

Which, as substitute activities go, isn't that bad. It would be great to see the gang, but not while worrying about how the trip was reducing my financial breathing room. Going to Vegas with money worries is rather like going to Bourbon Street with a drinking problem. Or something.

Well, Linda's preparing to take Linus for a walk (Shwea's still on restricted duty), so close I must. Need to practice my set, and that needs to be done alone (but for a trusty dog).