This image is from Friday night's gig and Your Perfect Heroine is in a dance studio where students are learning to salsa. Me, I dig salsa just fine, from time to time, despite the tomato component - it's dance salsa that kicks me in the ass, harder than a couple of tomatoes. These students heard direction and off they'd salsa ... with partners. The instructress asked if I would mind participating, as they were short on femmes.
I got out of that one, happily for the feet of one of the male students.
Received some mail today from Dem National H.Q. - an appeal masking as a survey.
I like this question, under Part V: Foreign Policy.
How comfortable do you feel with the President's handling of the War in Iraq?
( ) Very Comfortable
( ) Slightly Uncomfortable
( ) Somewhat Comfortable
( ) Very Uncomfortable.
Comfort. Feelings.
My answer: Regarding the Presidential Handling on War Matters I find myself feeling very uncomfortable, way less comfortable than I am on my Aeron office chair. And no roadside threats, to boot.
Today's second gig found Yours Truly ensnared in a medical school maze that brought me alongside a very long hallway devoted to storing corpse holders/cozies for Gross Anatomy. I felt I might chance upon one with the top down, the chicken-looking skin exposed, wondered how I might feel in that Witkin moment. It did not happen, just the long line of stainless conveyors of dead for research like a used car lot - sans happy flapping flags.

Happy, flapping Love.