Friday, June 6, 2008
Last night we watched "So You Think You Can Dance." After too many hours of sitting stupefied on the couch, admiring the energy and grace of teenagers and twenty-somethings, I went to change for bed. However, I stopped in front of our full-length mirror to attempt a plie or two and wonder whether 65 was too old to begin ballet lessons. It was quiet and as my knees straightened back up, they crackled. They didn't creak; they crackled. Perhaps I will stick to watching dancers -- or join the percussion section of the band.