Happy feet, sniffly nose
I rose from my sickbed last night to trudge to town and join my tap class in front of Santa's workshop - there were carolers and bagpipes and ballerinas and some teen rockers as well. It was cold, I had a cold, but for once I have to say I really DID relax and have a good time. Instead of oblivious adrenaline, I was aware of smiling without the fixed grin of terror. My fellow tappers are so good at this - the dancing and the performing - and I've always just hoped I'd not embarrass myself or them. Last night, perhaps in the resignation of sniffly low expectations, I just danced. I think Mumble would have been proud.