I’ve attempted to write this so I don’t offend anyone and I’ve tried to go at it from both sides of the fence. You are invited, at the end, to decide if I’ve succeeded in my attempt.

I’m a nurse by trade; not because it was some sort of life long dream or because I always wanted to be. Looking back in my “School Daze” book; let it be noted that I usually wrote “farmer” in the space provided for what I wanted to be when I grew up. Nursing seemed like a practical choice at some point and it’s a profession that is serving me well. Here recently, I’ve become an “Occupational Health Nurse”, the likes of which they don’t really talk about in nursing school accept to mention it during Nursing History when we covered the single page pertaining to “Industrial Nursing”. Doesn’t that sound exciting or super-hero like? Maybe more like a large-ankled woman in a white, dress-tights-orthopedic shoes ensemble….in reality; it actually depends on the day.

Truth be told, it’s a job like any other only the variety of my work is endless. I often times can’t believe the situations I find myself in and revel in the challenge of figuring out how to get out of them, all the while, striving to achieve the most favorable outcome. My favorite portion of my work would be that of wellness teaching; the health fairs and educational opportunities where healthy people come to us to learn how to be even healthier. In order to fulfill my duties in this area, I network quite a bit with the surrounding community. One of those networks has landed me on the Colfax County Tobacco Free Coalition for the past few years and I’ve become a tobacco cessationist instructor at my job as well.

Sounds like great fun doesn’t it? Our new law: LB395 (requiring every indoor workplace in Nebraska to become smoke free), comes to fruition here on the first of June. My being an instrumental player in initiating compliance at my place of work, as well as in the community has turned me into a “Nurse Ratchet: Tobacco Cessationist”, type character to some, I’m afraid. Personally, I first became interested in this wellness program because some of my employees came to me and asked for help and I felt I needed to be more involved and educated in order to offer the best information. Sometimes the best intentions make you the target for everyone’s complaints, but that’s okay because my super-hero cape is bullet proof, so are my tights.

We all know the law is coming and everyone, of every age group seems to harbor an opinion one way or the other. The most entertaining to me are those folks that come out and complain about the increase in tax on tobacco. They feel this is an effort to play on the publics weaknesses and are leery about where those tax dollars are going to come from once everyone quits smoking. I find this particular argument to be such a positive and prolific one because deep down they believe it’s going to work and that people will stop smoking or cut down on their smoking overall because of the rise in the tax. When they start telling me that the next thing they are going to tax is my ice cream or my fast food to make up for the inevitable decrease in tobacco tax revenue….they’re treading on shaky ground. Though maybe that’s what it will take for me to lose weight…if it works for one, why not another?

I am looking forward to being able to go to our local restaurants/ bars for a meal or a drink. I’ve got some personal medical and hypochondriacal issues that limit my patronage, I’ll admit it. Some folks are okay with it but having to wash my hair and hang my coat and jeans outside after I eat just to get the smell out, or use my inhaler in order to catch my breath, makes the dining experience not even worth it. And I know, it’s my choice: “Just don’t go there if it bothers you.” Which is all fine and good, but we live out here in a wonderful world where the local bars are family places. Where our family meals often DO take place around a table and that table happens to be located at our friend’s establishments, where we meet up, share our lives and break our bread. This isn’t New York or even Omaha where a bar is specifically a place to get loaded….well not 100% of the time anyway. It’s a completely different spin on the idea. We could just not go, but by doing that we cut ourselves off and are missing out on a vital part of community interaction. Believe me, I’m one of those that chooses “not to go” most of the time and I really would love to spend more time with neighbors and friends.

It’s the right thing to do and I’m sure we will all get used to it, our children won’t even remember the days when you used to be able to smoke indoors. I know, right now, some of you may feel like your rights are being violated and it’s natural for you to feel that way because you have to make a change that not everyone else has to make. It doesn’t seem fair, but please take a look around this place where you are smoking. Consider for a moment your waitress or waiter or co-worker: Their risk of heart disease and lung cancer increases by 20-30% just because they want to make a living and are doing their job every day. Talk about having your rights violated! There are OSHA laws out there to limit the amount of ammonia and hundreds of other substances you could be exposed to at work but not the amount of nicotine and in some cases, the carcinogens in second-hand smoke are even deadlier.

It’s also important for those of us who will reap the benefit from this new law to consider our friends and neighbors who are going to have to make the change. Get involved, see what you can do as a community, to help because the law wasn’t passed in order to punish, it’s there to make all of our lives better. What sort of changes will your local establishment have to make to accommodate an outdoor area for smoking? Is there any way we can help them with this? Could we organize a community clean up or a deck raising on a Saturday afternoon before planting season starts to help with an outdoor area? Is there a local smoking cessation class to assist those that want to quit? Do they have the information they need to comply with this new law?

We are all in Nebraska here together and it’s a huge, bold, admirable change for all of us so we need to work together to make it happen because it affects every one of us, of every single age group. So I suggest we start talking about it and not one side against the other but rather, how we can approach this law and make the most of it. Nebraska is one of just 23 states with such a law coming into reality and I am proud to be a part of such a wonderful group of forward-thinkers.

I would love to hear successes as well as complaints from our readers. I don’t usually get too political, but you know where I’m at if you need to vent….that’s why he puts me on the opinion page. For more information go to:
www.smokefree.ne.gov.

For a list of states that already have their law in place go to: www.no-smoke.org/pdf/100ordlist.pdf.

There is some expansion happening at my place of employment that has made the existing parking lot inaccessible. The backup parking lot happens to be quite a bit further away from the building with the additional benefits of being too small and lacking organized entry and exit points. As a result there have been many complaints and difficulties due to this arrangement. The following is something I posted in my department to give everyone some perspective.

1. It could be a coincidence, but I am seriously starting to think the frigid air is good for adult acne.
2. It’s no coincidence: I’ve been forced to eliminate my usual bottle of water, consumed during my commute into work….now, I wait to drink it until I get to my desk. There’s something to be said for actually performing those Kagel exercises. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about.
3. We can really learn to appreciate that “smell of money”. Like my Dad used to say whenever we kids complained about smelling like cow crap at school, after helping with the milking each morning: “That herd of 40, 4-legged, s__t-producers out there, in the back yard, is putting food on your table so zip it!”
4. I moved up here from Texas 10 years ago and I am finally faced with the fact that I really do need a pair of coveralls! It is a good idea after all! It can get kinda cold up here.
5. Just when you are sure some old fart is permanently crabby and crotchety: he picks you up in his warm truck on a particularly cold morning and gives you a ride to the walkway. There’s hope for all of us…you just have to believe and give everyone a chance.
6. I have a cost savings for nursing this month: I was asked to put 4 treadmills in the conference room at one time. We really don’t need them anymore with the mandatory half-mile walk every day.
7. Personally, my reflexes are improving due to the necessary dodging of the urine and poop showers, flying randomly from the cattle trucks, as I walk to and from my car.
8. We get 10 more minutes to chat with our co-workers as we walk in together. This is a great time to get to know someone you don’t normally talk to…. take advantage of it.
9. It’s Christmas time. Have no clues what to get that person whose name you drew in the office gift exchange? My suggestion: gloves, scarf, and a hat…..one size fits all….you can’t miss.
10. I think I lost 5 pounds already! YIPEE!!! How about you?
    The Top Reason to see the Bright Side of our Parking Lot Situation:

FREE WEIGH-INS in the Nurse’s office anytime!

They finally got me.

My daughter and I were coming back from her dance lesson in Schuyler on a Monday night and I was so excited to not be going the normal 58 miles per hour that is usual for my personal, miles and miles of Highway 30 travel. I happened to be following a car going 68 or 70 miles per hour for a change and I admit it, I couldn’t help myself, I was right there with him and loving the opportunity to actually drive my car.

Yeah, that’s me, I’m the one following you just close enough but not too close, impatiently pushing you to go 5 miles over the speed limit. Which is a frustrating waste of energy because we all know how difficult it is to pass on our beloved two-lane. I’ve got this car with “six-on-the-floor”, you heard me right, not five, six. That diesel engine is just aching to accelerate and yet we are forced to plug along at 58, day after day after day. It can’t be good for the vehicle or the driver, that’s what I tell myself.

I digress; the two of us were singing to the radio as we tend to do while in the car, both tired because Mondays are extremely long days for us. We were cruising along at light speed and all of a sudden the pace car in front of us slams on his brakes. Stupid me, I couldn’t figure out why. Then my co-pilot informs me that there are flashing blue and red lights behind us. I was too busy throwing my hands up to gesture at my racing buddy and his odd choice to decelerate for, what I thought was, no apparent reason. I didn’t even notice the intentions of the squad car in my rear view. Turns out, that car ahead of me was more aware of my surroundings than I was myself. I take back the gesture, whoever you are…you tried to warn me and I appreciate your effort. He, of course, was able to continue on his way as we, obligingly, pulled over onto the shoulder.

By the way, I have never really given it much thought before but there is absolutely no shoulder to speak of on the edge of our lovely country thoroughfare. Seriously. Our fine officer of the law was taking her life into her own hands just getting out of that squad car, walking basically into the flow of traffic, past her own car and over to mine. I was frightened for her, the walk seemed dangerous, someone should do something about that, like add another couple of lanes or something. The semi trailers were whizzing by her, just inches from her back side as she bent over with her flashlight to ask me if I knew why I was being stopped.

I haven’t been pulled over for many, many years but, in the distant past, I would have answered this question with a somewhat respectfully flippant: “No officer, I have no idea.” However, my child was sitting next to me and she knew that I knew…so: “Was I speeding?” seemed a more appropriate response. To which she answered: “Yes you were ma’am, do you know what the speed limit is on this highway?” I had to tell her that one correctly too because I know darn well that the “Tween” in my passenger seat would smirk or something if I lied and said I didn’t.

We got her the registration without too much scrounging around in the glove compartment and I managed to locate my wallet, which fortunately contained my driver’s license, from the back seat with my daughter’s assistance. Then, as our personal constable was about to return to her “office”, she looks at my face and asks me: “Have you had anything to drink tonight?” I had to think for a moment… it had definitely been a milk and water kind of day so I replied, quickly, though maybe too quickly, to the negative. I’m certain I appeared somewhat taken aback by her question, I’m not much of a poker player, because she responded defensively with; “Well I smell something coming from your car but I can’t really tell what it is.” All I could think of was that my nice new-car-smell has recently been replaced with the pungent, sweet, acrid fetor given off by the rendering process, among other untold processes. My current parking spot for 8-10 hours each day is located directly north of the waste water treatment area where I’m currently employed and the aforementioned “fresh scent” seems inevitable. I explained this to the officer and she responded with; “Uh, okaaay.” If the odor we exude, after a few beers, even closely resembles the smell of my car’s interior, maybe we should all reconsider and have a soda next Saturday night instead.

“Now what?” The inquisition began within seconds, once we were alone again and waiting. I laid it all out for her: “Now I get a ticket which won’t really cost that much on the surface, but I will pay for it monthly for the next three years as my car insurance will go up and this whole thing will suck over a thousand dollars from your college savings.” Did I mention I tend to be a bit over dramatic and blunt when I’m tired and frustrated? I try to be realistic with my impromptu educational opportunities concerning my child, no sense in beating around the bush. I made a mistake and not only am I going to pay for it, but unfortunately, so will she.

We were cut a lucky break, I was given a verbal warning when all was said and done. I’m taking it to heart, I’ll drive like the rest of you, staying within the letter/number of the law from now on. That’s the lesson I closed the conversation with as my girl, who is 3 short years away from driving herself, and I, finally continued on home to Morse Bluff. It never pays to drive faster, you don’t really get there any quicker anyway, and sometimes those few miles over the speed limit can cost you even more than an embarrassing traffic stop, a speeding ticket and a bump in your insurance premiums.

To the nice, young, officer that stopped me: I know you may not have added to your quota the other night, but you need to know that you made a huge impact on two of the lives you are out there to protect. Thank you.

I skipped my Pilates class this week. I had a fairly decent reason: my kitchen was a mess and my toilets needed cleaning and I was expecting company on Friday after work so the cleaning was justified. I am still feeling like I let myself down somehow and my muscles are more sore now than if I had tortured…sorry, exercised and stretched them for an hour in a structured class.

I’ve never been much of a “group exerciser”, lately, I’m not much of an “exerciser” at all. I decided to give this Pilates class a try for a couple of reasons: the time of day and week was amazingly open for me and my back has become a desperate mess. It was suggested that I need to strive for more flexibility and that stretching and stomach exercises would help the most. Walking seemed to be making the pain in my back and hips worse.

Pilates sounded like a perfect fit by definition and we now have this wonderful opportunity right here in town with “Fit on Main”, so I’m giving it a whirl. Of course, before I started I did my usual Internet information prep and I was happy to find out that Pilates is basically, entirely low impact. I secretly thought to myself; “How tough can it be, you’re laying down for pretty much every exercise, even I can handle that.”

I realized that I had some sort of mental block when it came time to participate in very public, group exercising. The hardest part for me, was overcoming the self-consciousness that accompanies the idea that I might not be able to keep up or even just the fact that, in some of the exercise positions, more of me might be hanging out than I can personally accept as appropriate. When you are walking around town or going out to eat in front of your acquaintances, friends, and people you do business with everyday; you aren’t generally clad in Lycra-wear with your head between your knees and both of your feet in the air. It’s a hurdle, I’m sure we ladies all struggle with at some level, I don’t care who you are or how hot you look in your yoga pants. There’s just something about lying on your back with your legs spread wide that is taboo for some reason, or well, I guess that depends on how you look at it.

I summoned the courage, braved my insecurities and signed up anyway. At the first class, I think I counted 30 or so women and I’m sorry to say, though it’s nice to have more room to stretch out, the numbers have dwindled. Rebecca is fantastic! She’s the perfect motivator for me because I respond well to the pleasant mixture of her boundless energy and her Pollyanna-sunshiny-attitude mixed, delightfully/refreshingly with grating, realistic sarcasm. I couldn’t be more entertained and in pain at the same time. I can tell she really cares about us as she demands we breathe to her count and keep our feet “up, up, up….no drooping”. We stare at her pleadingly for the “…and relax” command, as we attempt to keep our shoulders off the mat and our straight, quivering/convulsing legs inches off the ground. She just keeps talking and telling jokes, can’t she see we’re dying down here!?! Maybe that’s the point, though sometimes it’s hard to deep breathe and laugh at ourselves at the same time…..but we try.

It’s not for the weak, don’t let the horizontal positions fool you. For some of us, when we recline, gravity takes hold and with all of that up near your face, with your knees, pulled obligingly into your chest; it’s a challenge to keep from turning purple, much less breathe with any sort of rhythm…and still we try, because all you can do is try and keep trying.

I remember, in the beginning, we ladies were meeting each other at Mini Mart and other places around town for weeks asking each other, sympathetically, about our aching stomach muscles; our “natural girdles” as it were. We’ve bonded in more ways than that I’m sure; I think we are all standing up straighter, sitting less, and we are all making our “imprint” in this world every chance we get, now that we know and feel, how important that can be.

I’ll try not to skip anymore. We all deserve at least an hour each week to focus on our personal “core”, whether that be in the corporeal sense or the spiritual. It’s our time and we should never allow earthly, mundane tasks like washing dishes or cleaning toilets get in the way of our inner peace.

Namaste everybody!

Are you all as tired as I am? I can’t believe we are starting to think about Christmas shopping again! This life is going a little too fast forward for my taste, the none-stop running is wearing on my usually pleasant disposition.

Here’s one theory: we got more rain this Spring and Summer than we normally do, at least we got a little bit every now and then, somewhat consistently. I find that I am still mowing my lawn like it’s Spring time, when I usually let it dry up and go dormant by mid July; to me that’s just easier. My thought is that having to perpetually keep up with the constantly growing grass all summer long, has robbed me of time I might have used to reflect, cogitate and slow down so that I might come up with more viable reasons as to why life is spinning out of control.

No? Oh well, I’m a simple, small town girl with simple theories. I did have a chance one beautiful morning, a few weeks ago, to nap in style and I never pass up a chance to nap, I liken it to winning the lottery.

My Dad enjoys taking advantage of his crew of offspring every now and then. Our numbers are a blessing at Christmas; when the house is full and you can see the pride and sheer contentment in our folks’ faces with all of us and all of our children there to surround them with joy and noise. It must be similar to that feeling when the farm yields a bumper crop for the year, only we keep bumping the numbers higher and higher.

We also, as a group, tend to have a certain amount of buying power, now that we are older; when it comes to buying gifts. Think about it….when you split it nine ways…..you have so many more options.

The team effort I enjoy the most though, would have to be the annual laying out and loading back up of the irrigation pipe. I was called upon to join again this year, out of desperation on my father’s part; I work Saturdays and have sadly missed a couple of years. This year he “needed” me, so I made it work and after I put in a half day at my job I was out to the farm by 0900 with my leather gloves on, raring for action…well, I was present and accounted for anyway. In the past, he has been able to round up several spry, teen-agers with not a care in the world as to the condition of their rotator cuffs but this year he had a motley crew at best. My youngest brother, me and my daughter, my sister, her husband and their two boys and we were all kind of looking at each other like; “Okay.  Let’s just do this.”

We split into two groups and after loading one trailer with my brother; he got in the driver’s seat and my daughter, my nephew and I precariously hopped up on top of the pipe to ride back to the farm the old fashioned way. The kids loved it once the pipe settled and we got up onto the road. They laid down on the pipe, looked up at the clouds and let out an “aaaahhhhhh..” as the bumps and shimmies made their voices jump around until they were giggling uncontrollably at themselves. Remember when you did things like that? Back in the day before all of those “Farm Safety Gods” bore down from above and swiped away the adventure, the spontaneity, and the “I dare you” aspect that makes farm life fun. There aren’t any seat belts on the top of the pipe, in the loader bucket, or in the bed of the truck, therefore taboo these days.

My favorite part of the irrigation experience is always the loading and unloading of the pipe and not because I totally love to lift these 10 inch, aluminum beasts over my head, one after the other, onto the pile or the trailer, depending on the season, but because of where the storage area is located. Every year I’m allowed to venture up there, I’m surprised by the beauty of this small clearing at the top of the bluff. There’s this open area, surrounded by trees where I’m not sure if the prairie grasses were planted or if they remain there from times long past but this view always takes my breath away. I prefer to think the grasses ancestral rather than planned out and machine seeded; but I think we’ve all come to the conclusion that I’m a bit of a romantic about almost everything.

The wheat grass flows and shines as the breezes blow through. There are patches of wild rye, switch grass and Indian grass peppered in and throughout. As I walk through; I search for the wild asters who come out of their low-to-the-ground hiding spots and show off their tiny, tough, daisy-like flowers. The round-headed bush clovers stand proudly, singly, dotting the prairie scene with their blue leaves and ball shaped grouping of white and red petals, and I can also always count on bright, sunny yellow goldenrod and sunflowers to greet me like old friends without fail.

I have to admit I was tired that day after rising in the middle of the night to go into work and I think the “the crew” knew it so they left me up there, in paradise, to wait and unload as the full trailers came back. I didn’t argue and I took the opportunity, between loads, to reacquaint myself with that feeling of how life used to be before there were pipe and the occasional tractor coming up to that clearing. One could possibly imagine themselves standing atop this hill in order to predict the timing of a storm seen coming from many many miles away, where the buffalo herd was, or if the rival tribe was headed in this direction.

I couldn’t tell you if all of that is even true to this area but I was prairie dreaming and that would be an example of my imagination at work. When the wait between loads got to be more than 10 minutes, I couldn’t resist the temptation to lie down in the middle of those soft, flowing grasses, feeling the  grasshoppers curiously investigating my foreign body, placing my leather gloves on my forehead to shield my eyes but not block out the unending blue Nebraska sky. I listened and heard the cicadas, the crickets with their never-ending songs, often signifying unrequited love, and I even had a Monarch land on my knee for a second until she realized she had mistakened my blue jeans for possibly some purple prairie clover;  and she was quickly off to find the real thing.

The whooshing of the grasses moving together in rhythm and that crispy, burnt smell of September carried my heart to a calmer place, enabling me to forget about the crazy work place I had left a couple hours ago, the deadlines, the commitments, and the hustle that is required of every one of us because life is racing  by a little “too fast forward”. For a moment, for 20 minutes, I was allowed to sleep in this wonderful Nebraska dream scape until I heard the old Ford coming into the yard below, I turned over and saw the puff of black smoke rise above the trees as my brother shoved it into low, in order to begin his ascent, pulling his full trailer and more work behind him, requiring me to break out of my grassland fantasy and get back to work.

I have that memory from that fun, break-in-my-monotony kind of day and I take it out to use it whenever I’m waiting at the railroad, driving slowly behind a combine, or when I’m taking a personal moment to briefly crumble under the pressure, at my desk in the afternoons. I’m able to find that peace again and slow it all down if not just for a flash of time; I find it really helps me.

It’s still all rushing by and time seems to take on a life of it’s own, there’s really no way to control it. I  think it’s important that we all make good use of that one calming memory and take selfish micro-breaks during our busy days because we deserve better and more than this treadmill that life seems to have become. Oscar Wilde describes a dreamer as thus:  “One who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”   A dreamer can dream at any time during the day in order to re-orient himself and find his way once again; so give it a try, the sunrise that accompanies the dawn reminds us that every day is a new opportunity to start fresh, and I can’t imagine a more inspiring sort of “punishment”.

Okay folks…..I need to vent! I know I’ve mentioned a few times how much I love the time I’m in the car by myself so I can listen to music of my choice, without any pouting or crabbing coming from the passenger seat. Fortunately, my daughter and I like the same radio station; there are some favorite CDs in her collection that I would just as soon throw out, but if we settle on the radio; we can usually get along.

However, there is this song, playing at least once every hour, the dichotomy of which has completely driven me insane! By mentioning it and discussing it I’m probably giving it even more air time than I should but I can’t help myself. It’s called: “I Kissed A Girl” by Katy Parry. I don’t know if you’ve heard it, and it’s official: I’m getting old…sort of. I say “sort of” because when I’m alone, I crank this song! It’s a great song; the music stays with you all day and the lyrics are cleverly written so they stay in your head all day after you hear it the one time. We women may sound strange when we’re walking down the hall singing “I kissed a girl and I like it….the taste of her cherry chap stick.” at work; again, I can’t help myself.

That said, those lyrics are encouraging my little 10-year-old-going-on-30 daughter to ask me questions that I, frankly, don’t know the answers to. Such as: “Mom, if she has a boyfriend why is she kissing somebody else?” And; “Mom, why is she kissing a girl if she likes boys?” She thinks it’s funny when I don’t answer right away and then I scream; “I don’t know!!” So every time the song comes on I cringe and I could change the station but we’ve got this really cool chair dance we do to the song in the car, and it’s more fun to have a good laugh with my daughter and join in than get my big girl panties in a wad over the lyrics to a song. I have to constantly remind myself of what I used to tell my folks: “Just because I listen to a song about it, doesn’t mean I’m going to go out and do it! Jeez, Dad!!!”

I remember when I was a kid and we played the songs our parents hated even louder because we knew the lyrics got to them. The ones they didn’t seem to care about were played at a normal, more quiet level. Let me think: my favorite was to play this song on Sunday mornings when I didn’t necessarily want to be burdened with going to church: “Hell is for Children” by Pat Benatar. Yeah the house got blasted with that one more than once. Remember AC/DC: “Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap”, “We’re Not Gonna Take It” by Twisted Sister, and “It’s the End of the World” by R.E.M? My brothers had some fun ones blaring from their cars and from their bedrooms, from the depths of the basement: “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard and “She’s My Cherry Pie” by Warrant, come to mind. But more in the same genre as “Kissed A Girl”: “Call Me” by Blondie, “Red Corvette” by Prince, and two of my absolute favorites and still are: “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meat Loaf and “I Need a Lover That Won’t Drive Me Crazy” by John (then Cougar) Mellencamp. I’m sure my folks HATED those songs and couldn’t understand why a 10/11-year-old would like them. It’s because they are great songs and the lyrics stick with you! Don’t get me wrong, I’m in no way comparing Katy Parry’s one-hit-wonder to these Rock Legends, but you get my drift. Every generation has their Jerry Lee Lewis or Elvis, right?

I’m trying not to make tooooo much of this but if anyone can help me out in my effort to explain this song to my girl, let me know. I try to be open minded and accepting of other people’s choices and all of that but the attitude that you-can-have-it-all-as-long-as-it-makes-you-feel-good is kind of sitting awry in my brain.  In my opinion we should all pick a lane and drive between the lines.  I guess I have to admit that I’m getting old in that respect, because I just don’t get it.   At least not enough so that I can explain it to someone who is still depending on me for answers and who still, somewhat, hangs on my every word.

In the meantime: I think it’s okay to dance to it; if it makes you want to dance….just try not to sing out loud when the music isn’t playing, that way you will avoid having to come up with that uncomfortable explanation for yourself.