HAPPY DANCE

The guy asked me, “Why are you so happy?”  What the heck?  “I’m dancing!” I cried between spins.  Or was it between rock steps.  Or maybe it was …  oh, whatever.  I wondered if I was the only mouse on the dance floor that looked happy or something.  I didn’t think much about it until I got home.  In the shower, actually.  Singing.  That’s another story.  And oh yes, mice dance.  We have our own steps and kicks and spins, and sometimes we spin on our tails.  But that’s kind of hard to control.  Also another story.  I’m sure you’ll be on pins and needles waiting to hear that one.  Come to think of it, pins and needles are easier than tails, if you’ve got to be up on something.

So I thought to myself the next morning, “I love to dance.  Didn’t he love to dance?  Why was anyone there last night who didn’t love to dance when They could be some place else doing whatever it is that they love to do?  Like singing in the shower.”

Life’s just to short to miss doing something that brings the absolute joy of life out of you.

NOTES FOR STORIES

This book keeps sliding to the back burner.  Not that my smooth-top stove is tilting or anything.  It’s just that my schedule keeps getting skewed.  I need a dose of will power.

One example of the time-chewer-uppers:  I volunteered to teach the Minor Prophets.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  But I get lost in details.  It’s in my blood or something.  When I read something I don’t know, I start Googling.  Before you know it, two hours have passed!  Curiosity is about to kill the mouse.

I finally finished the prophets and picked up the pile of notes I made whenever an idea for a good Mouse story popped up.  What the heck was I thinking when I jotted this on a torn piece of paper from a yellow pad:  “Sleeveless Pajama Pants”?  I have no idea.  Another notes says, “Rain on Beck’s Calendar.”  Huh?  Unfortunately, I do remember what this note was about:  “Slot Machine=Paper Shredder.”