Saturday, December 15, 2007

Xmas Part-ay

25 years is a long time to run a business. He did it.  He founded it, he took it through IPO, and now he is going global.   Very impressive.  And he thanks us, he thanks the peeps. Very nice. A class act, this our boss.

The dance floor is heaving.  French interns everywhere.  Sexy boys.  Professional dancers try to keep the party going but they are fluff. We rock.  I am propositioned by a woman half my age. I fall off my shoes for the first time in 23 years.  A french intern saves me.  I dance more unabashed.  I'd like to bed him; note to self; His name is the same as famous restaurant. 

I'm alone again.  This time not just alone here on the dance floor, I'm alone when I come home.  Its ok.  Next year I will be with a man who can dance. Really dance.  I deserve it. I made the pros sweat, I made them wonder, I made them look like aerobics teachers.  I aint doin' routines.  This aint a gig for me. 

I can dance.  And when I dance, it looks like fun.

 

4 comments:

Me said...

Dancing in all its forms cannot be excluded from the curriculum of all noble education; dancing with the feet, with ideas, with words, and, need I add that one must also be able to dance with the pen? ~Friedrich Nietzsche


I think you do it all. And dancing it will be in 2008.

the psycho therapist said...

How beautiful...and cosmic. I just awoke from a dream where I was dancing with my man. Interesting.

Yes, may the year ahead fulfill more of your own heart's desires.

Best.

The Fool said...

Happy solstice, BosLady. Dance...dance...dance...touch the unspeakable, and say it. It is fun.

the psycho therapist said...

And now I write to offer greetings and well wishes for peace and joy as this year nears an end.

It sounds like you've had many life changes in the recent past. I hope the transitions are smooth. A wise woman once told me, it's not the dance, Wendy, it's how you move across the floor. She's dead-on, you know.

Dance on, goddess woman.


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