Dance Party

I was in a funk this morning. I had a case of the Burned-Out Mama Blues. You know the kind: it's the 8th day of snotty noses, the house looks like it's been ransacked, the laundry is mountainous, and the only "help" around isn't very helpful.

My favorite cure for the blues? A dance party. We're fond of dancing around here. We like to turn the music up loud and be goofy--no actual dance skills required.

We danced to Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, and some other "oldies but goodies." Oliver happily danced in the sling while Ellis and I turned our kitchen into a dance floor. And as I listened to Sam Cooke remind me that "life is this way," I noticed that my funk had been replaced with new energy for the tasks at hand. What's not to love about that?