I was playing some tunes with a good beat, and I mentioned to my boys that it was good dance music. (I was playing Earth Wind & Fire, if you’re curious.) They’ve both “danced” a bit with their mother, to Just Dance 2 on the Wii, but that’s more jumping and playing than real dancing. So their idea of “dance music” is really pretty much anything. They didn’t understand why I would identify something particularly as “good dance music.”

Something I intend to teach my boys when they’re old enough is the value of knowing how, and being able to dance. They’ll appreciate it when their old enough to date. Women love to dance, and a man who can dance can open a lot of doors that might otherwise stay closed.

Other than my mom teaching me how to Shag, (that’s a U.S. Southeast coastal style dance, for those of you who know “shag” to mean something else), I’ve never done any kind of choreographed or couples dancing. In fact, I’ve never even danced the Shag outside of those first lessons from my mom. My dancing has always been just getting out on the dance floor and grooving to the beat.

I like grooving to the beat, and although I never had anyone teach me how, I apparently had a talent for it and did okay just doing it. Since my brother seems to think white people can’t dance, I’ll throw out this supporting fact for my claim: I’ve had black women pull me out to the dance floor.

Dancing is a fantastic skill for any guy wanting to meet women. Most women want to dance, and if they see that you can, they will almost always say yes when you ask them. Dancing has proven to be a really easy (and fun) way to break the ice with any woman you fancy. It served me very well when I was single, and I’ll pass the advice on to my boys when they’re interested.

Last night, instead of my regular workout, I decided to dance. I haven’t danced in a very long time, but I’ve recently been thinking about it. I took my wireless headphones downstairs, turned off the lights, and danced for over an hour in our den.

• She’s a Bad Mama Jama
• Brick House
• Party Rock
• Poison
• Moves Like Jagger
• Etc.

I loved it! It was fun and it was exercise. I could have gone longer than an hour, but I had other things that needed doing, (including taking a shower and going to bed). Now I’m going to look and find a local dance club where I can go on a real dance floor.

Bullgrit

I and my boys just spent the weekend at my mom’s house. Saturday night, after getting the boys in bed, I sat up with my mom comparing our music libraries.

We have a common love of classic soul music — Barry White, Marvin Gaye, Teddy Pendergrass, Bill Withers, etc. The kind of music that makes for really good lovin’ mood music. Or good “reading” music, as my mom puts it. I often wonder how many 70s babies were made to Barry White songs.

We both have a pretty good selection of the great soul tunes, but we both were surprised to find gaps in our collections. I can’t believe I totally missed Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing, and The Commodores’ Easy.

Get up, let’s make love tonight.
Wake up, ’cause you do it right.

Midnight loving — it’s a special moment.

Technically outside of the soul genre, Mom was surprised she missed any Dr. Hook music.

You know, it’s never been till right now that I’ve thought, Is it weird that my mom and I have similar taste in “mood” music?

Bullgrit

I grew up with the Space Shuttle program. I remember the first shuttle being named after the Starship Enterprise of Star Trek (TOS). I remember watching the first Shuttle fly piggyback atop a 747. I remember the general excitement of just having a national reusable spacecraft.

I also remember where I was when the Challenger disintegrated after liftoff. I was in the library of my hometown’s community college, (where I was in my first year of college courses), studying between classes. The library had a TV tuned to the Shuttle liftoff, and I took a break from my books to watch it. The liftoffs were pretty routine by then, but they were still new enough to be interesting even to the general public. Plus, this Shuttle mission had the first civilian on board: teacher Christa McAuliffe. So there was a little more media coverage than normal.

There were about half a dozen of us gathered in front of the TV, (students and at least one of the library staff), as the count down reached zero. We watched the Shuttle blast off and start its trip to space. I think a couple of us clapped quietly. And then the “explosion.” We six stood there stunned for a long while, and other students and staff slowly joined us while the news anchors talked about what happened.

Eventually I broke away from the TV to go on to my trigonometry class. I was late, but walked in and took a seat quietly. One of my classmates, I knew was a science geek, (as I was somewhat), so I wrote a note and passed it to him. “The Space Shuttle exploded,” it said. After he read it, he turned to me with a confused expression. Then he passed the note to another student, and it made its way around to four or five others who would be interested. As soon as the professor ended the class, they all turned to me and asked what happened.

As time and missions went on, the Space Shuttle program seemed to become nearly as routine as normal departures and landings at the airport. I still took interest in some missions, here and there. Having grown up with it as an exciting piece of national culture, the Space Shuttle owns a notable nostalgic part of my heart. And I’m sad to see it end.

Bullgrit

By Wifegrit

Last week my oldest son came home from school early because he was sick. Later that afternoon we remembered he had a science quiz the next day, so we went online to his school’s website to look at the words he needed to review. We were so busy that I lost track of time. When I looked up at the clock, it was 3:45!!! Eeek! It was time to pick up my youngest son. He gets out of school at 3:45!!!

Our neighborhood is located next to the school so we usually walk to and from school. I jumped up and ran outside. I grabbed one of the boys’ Razor scooters and took off for school! Yes I rode my son’s scooter to school. I was there in less then 3 minutes. It was actually a lot of fun. When I arrived, I put the scooter down and walked down the hill where we pick up the boys. My youngest was waiting patiently. I told him the story of how I had forgotten to keep up with the time and so had to rush out fast. He then looked up at me and said, ”Mom, that’s kind of embarrassing that you rode my scooter.”