I'm a maniac on the floor

1980. Dance class. Little girls in pink leotards. One girl is taller and a just a bit more awkward than the rest. She likes to dance, realizing that she isn't very good at it but not really caring. She stuck with it for a while, but eventually moved on to other things.

Fast forward to 2008. A friend mentions that she is taking a dance class at a local community college. She claims that it's for beginners and lots of fun. She wants others to join in the fun, and many say that it sounds like fun, but they are unsure.

Fall 2009 rolls up and she mentions it again. Goal 51. Sign up for a dance class. So . . . welcome to intro to Jazz and hip-hop. I bought some Jazz shoes and I am ready to roll. I am nervous and out of my element and dorky and still awkward, but who cares?

And no, I didn't tell anyone about the recital!