I promised my First Reader that I would have an entire new chapter of Pigeon in her hands by Friday,* so for once I’m stealing blogging time from MS time, instead of the far more traditional way ’round.
That means that instead of actual content today, I’m throwing out a video that always makes me smile. It does this because although Fred Astaire is the indisputable Cool King of the Ballroom—and anything he could do, Ginger Rogers could do backwards in high heels—only Gene Kelly could do it all on roller skates.
My parents put roller skates on me before I could walk—no exaggeration—but I never (intentionally) tap-danced in ’em. It’s been a while—a long while—since I wore ’em, but this clip always makes me want to dig out the old rollerblades and take a spin around town,** though probably at a far slower and more guarded pace—the sidewalks around here aren’t soundstage quality, and neither are the passers-by.
And neither, frankly, is the skater, though I’m well-padded enough to take the risk . . .
But not until I FTF.
Later!
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*New to her, anyway, and we didn’t actually specify a time on Friday, right? Lisa?
**It also makes me want to go back in time and—since I’m dreaming, here—have a bit of an affair with Mr. Kelly. But most of his movies have that affect on me—even Xanadu. I remember a late night discussion in college (after a weekend-long musical\dance movie marathon) in which a group of us came to the conclusion that while we’d marry Fred Astaire, we’d have a lot more, uh, fun with Gene Kelly. Astaire is elegant, witty ballet. Kelly is clever, earthy Tango.
Earful of Cider 