This Is My Dance Space, This Is Your Dance Space

My father loves music. Really, he loves it. My introduction to iTunes was life changing for him; he makes playlists constantly. He enjoys country, 80s pop, show tunes, chanting monks, classical, doo-wop, Christmas carols, you name it. Unfortunately, my poor father is completely tone deaf! He can't clap along to a song at a basketball game. He can't even hum on-key.

So, as you might imagine, the man cannot dance for crap. In preparation for my wedding, he signed up for some dance lessons. After three lessons, he seems to be mastering the box step (or something resembling it). As he practiced with my musically literate mom in their kitchen over the weekend, my mom yelled, "Slow down! Listen to the music!" My dad responded, "What music?"

Anyway, since they're taking lessons, my dad offered for Matt and me to take a lesson. We said, why not?

Luckily, my 7 months of ballroom dancing lessons with Mrs. I. W. Thompson in sixth grade came rushing back to me. OK, that is a complete overstatement. But I did vaguely remember the box step and the Lindy. Matt and I spent an hour with a ballroom dance instructor while my parents watched. In comparison to my dad, my mom thought Matt was the next Patrick Swayze.

You know, it was actually pretty fun! A little hokey, but fun!

We have chosen a classic Elvis song for our first dance, and we plan to do lots of practicing in our living room for the next two weeks in preparation for our first dance as husband and wife!