It's a cold winter in the kingdom of Norway.
My fingers are cold as I sit happily tapping them on my computer. Hopefully dancing back and forth across the keyboard will warm them up eventually. I have Perry Como singing in the background, so my fingers should easily be able to move their little tips to good music.
Growing up I was not allowed to dance or go to dance schools. My grandmother's strict opinion about right and wrong also reflected the way my parents raised me. As a goodly rebel I signed up for Ballroom dance classes as a seventeen year old starting my education at Brigham Young University. I tried out for the Ballroom Dance Team there and made it. I didn't mind the 6:00 am practices before classes in the morning, nor the practices and local competition in the evenings. Rehearsals for tours and larger competitions could acquire up to eight hours of practice a day. It was fun, healthy, and educational.
Last night as Arnfinn and I babysat two of our grandchildren munchkins, the beautiful little 3-year old threatened to jump on the table if I did not provide more grapes. They had already had two helpings and when I ignored her plea, she and her little brother climbed on the kitchen table and danced. They laughed and moved their little bodies to imaginary music. Safely on the floor again, they had danced their cravings away and were satisfied and OK with getting ready for bed.
Dancing obviously does more than exercise our bodies.
I have watched many old black and white Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly movies. Their talents and performances were astounding. Today I enjoy So you think you can dance. Dancing is fun to do, but also great to watch.
Today's water color is a detail from a poster made for a church dance.