Dancing With Myself

Sometimes, I find myself stepping outside of myself and just watching with bemusement and amusement. Kind of like that woman in the building across the backyard this morning who caught me doing The Twist in my kitchen and singing along with Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons doing "Candy Girl" into my Thumb Microphone (I never leave home without it!). What she didn't see was that I was wearing pink flipflops with giant hot pink flowers on them and singing to Mambo, who was giving me his patented "we are not amused" stare.

I didn't stop. In fact, I waved at her and grinned. She waved back. She looked like one of those Brooklyn residents who has been in the neighborhood forever. You know them -- they wear their little housedresses and actually use the clotheslines that are strung across the yards from the sides of the buildings.

It must be the sunshine, making me bushy-tailed and frisky.

Carlos, the downstairs neighbor was probably as amused as Mambo. Especially since I followed up the Four Seasons with AC/DC "Hell's Bells," which meant of course I had to do my best Angus Young from the living room into the kitchen and back. You can't listen to AC/DC and NOT do Angus.

Have you ever tried stomping without actually stomping? It's a rare and special talent, I tell you.

Keep her off caffeine, Mrs. S.