Balboa Park Dance.

Too much energy, that is right. I felt excited but nervous about moving from the YMCA in San Diego. I also felt excited that possibly my blog had a lot to do with bringing Horst back in the classroom. He loves sharing his experiences with students. His story is shaping up in a book bout his life. Never did I ever fathom writing about his life or Lady Barbara's. His book title will be, "I want to tell you something." 
   Just about every-other Thursday the Seniors put on a dance at the Balboa Bay Club. It is off of President's Way. The dances go from one to three thirty. All the regulars were there. After I took pleasure in playing the Steinway piano at the entrance. I paid the three dollars and walked inside.
   I noticed Lipstick off on the side. She feels nice to snuggle with on the dance floor. I walked up to her and pointed, not wishing to show off my missing-tooth mouth. She jumped and we were on the floor. The four piece band played a Tango.
    "I forgot how smooth you dance, George." Mom gave me dance lessons at Robertson Park when I was thirteen, and that is how I met my wife. "How did it happen?" Well I met her at Casey's Bar inside the town of Westwood. I had brought me Uke with me and serenaded the ladies. I went to her table of five women. I asked the first four for a dance. They refused. Number 5 jumped up and screamed, 'Yes'. From then on, I just hate the number 5.
    Well Lipstick, what is it you do? The bleached blond with heavy red lipstick answered. "I walk my dog and go dancing a lot. I don't care for bridge or any of those old-lady games. My doctor wants me to dance as much as possible...I have seven grand kids but seldom see them. I am too busy dancing."
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a lovely blond try to sneak a chocolate cake. She was tallish with nice curves in the right places. I continued to dance with Lipstick. The Fox Trot and Tango lessons had paid dividends. Many ladies looked my way now. Yes, I felt like a gentleman on the dance floor.
    I really did see to much that got my attention, except the cake in the rear. At the break, we were served lemonade, cheese, and grapes. Oh, yes, Lipstick left the table.so looked for another. Again, my Balboa Park my new dancing legs and piano hands provided me with loads of confidence. 
   "Now it is time for a circle dance. Boys, line up here, and girls there." Now usually I don't go for these dances. I just don't wish to be stepped on by a big-footed gal. Yet I enjoyed making the ladies happy. One large freckled lady wished to speak.
   "I just don't know why there is always more women than men." Well, dear the answer is clear. You ladies have put the men in their grave by your  endless chatter. My last girl friend, Shelly, made me miserable. All she did was talk and complain. "Now don't put that down in your blog," she insisted. 
    It was now three o'clock. Now remember the blond who tried to steal the cake before the break. Well she looked a lot better to me now. That always happened when my male hormones were awaken. It perhaps was the grapes.
    I waited for the right moment. I saw this gorgeous filly walk to her table. She picked up her handbag and began to leave. Here is my chance. I stealthily walked up to her and gave her a gentle shoulder tap. The filly turned around.
    "I was about to leave. My ride to San Marcus is waiting...but...my you have gorgeous blue eyes." You can thank my Mom, Edith...What about a last dance..."Well, a quick one." I took the light blue eyes damsel for a last dance.
     My you have pretty eyes. What is your name? "My name is Agnes and I used to be a professional dancer. Was that you who played the piano earlier?" Yes I is was. And you too have gorgeous blue eyes. 
     I returned Agnes to her table and gave her my e mail. Usually I bat about one out of three. But lately with all my missing teeth, I am soon forgotten. Yet, I will be getting an appliance and the dentist in Oceanside. Dam I should have brushed my teeth! 

   But my day was not over. I decided to make it a real day by treating myself to a Pizza Bella, in Old Town. Their antipasto is worth the cost of gas. Yet their everything-pizza puts you in orbit.