Ok, two things happened at belly dance class last night.

First, my right foot started hurting like a mutha, at one point I really wanted to cry, or throw up, either way, I was sure that one or the other would happen. Niether one did.

Second, my instructor asked me if I'd ever thought about performing. Um, well, yeah, as a matter of fact I have, even though I had no plans to ever share that fact with another living human being.

So with that knowledge she hands me one of her weighted veils so I can practice what we've worked on last night, and tells me she'll bring some finger cymbals (zills, said either zi-ll or ze-el, I'm not sure which) next week because she'd really like to start me working on that. She would have let me borrow a pair of her dance shoes if possible, but given that she was blessed with (to me) freakishly small 7 1/2 feet, they won't stretch over my size 10 puddlejumpers. This woman is so generous with her personal possessions it's absolutley awe inspiring.

And I'm also supposed to find a piece of music I'd like to work with, something that's about three minutes long or something that we can cut down to three minutes. Oh, and she's bringing me some videos next week to watch. She's got all kinds of performances on tape and thinks they'll help me. Maybe we could do some improvisational work next week if we get through the lesson. We almost always get through the lesson because I'm the only student taking the six-thirty class.

But, honestly, I've never minded being the center of attention.

So, I brought my new Natacha Atlas CD to work and am listening to it, but everything is at least five minutes, so that ain't gonna fly.

I'll find something.