Hi folks…now you remember some time ago I mentioned that I was gonna kick up my heels and break out of my old farm ways. 

First I was a Biker Mamma and now I am a famous dancer!  Yes…believe it or not!

I just love to dance and I was challenged by a dude (my now cool language) to a dance competition.  He claimed that he could out dance me.

 The war was on!  I just love challenges. The one thing though was I had to go to Grimsby ( a town quite distant from me) for this competition. Far be it from me to chicken out.  Although he was the challenger and I was the challengee, you’d think he’d have come my way.  Actually I thought he should because my way wouldn’t have anyone knowin him when he lost badly.  His way…I would claim victory in front of his friends…this old gal trouncin this hunk of a dude.

  Now I got to admit here I had never seen him dance so I was supposin he had all these groovy moves to try to outwit me. 

  My dancin shoes were all polished up and I decided I would wear my best coveralls for the occasion.  I gotta tell you I looked pretty hot in that fancy dance place…why all eyes were on me when I slid to the center of the floor, although I must confess the slidin was almost done on my butt cause they had put wax on the floor supposedly to make the dancin easier.

Out came the dude with sparkles all over his dancin shoes…tight-fittin pair of jeans and an open shirt showin his tanned, hair-covered chest. I hate to admit this, but I almost conceded it right there.  Looked nothin like my Clem…and when I looked at the dude I wondered ‘Clem who’?

We started to this fast beat…my legs were flyin every which way…I moved all over that dance floor to the music and the loud clappin of the audience. I had no idea where the heck he was…seemed in my dancin he was just a blur…then folks, I couldn’t believe it! I almost bashed into him. He was just standing there–shufflin slowly from foot-to-foot with body gyrations only.  After ten fast ones, I just had to sit down and he was still goin.

 He finally stopped when he saw me sit down and said he won!

  Hey…I rushed over there and said how the heck did he figure that, he didn’t out dance me at all!  He said he was still standin so he won.  I said if I danced like him why I could have danced non-stop for three days! 

  And the nerve—he shouted to everyone that I was like a dancer on steroids and who the heck could keep up with that. My goodness. Imagine! Trying to convince folks I was on steroids. Sore loser I would say, accusin an old lady of that.   

  Well, I just had to let the crowd judge. So with a vote of shouts and hands the decision was made and I walked away with the trophy, and I suppose he’s still shufflin from side-to-side tryin to figure out how the heck I won.

You just have to stay tuned the next issue when I blab about how I am now a cougar. Live life full out till you croak is my motto. Klara

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