Exercise One
Once the straps on her shoes were buckled and bottoms brushed, Abby stood up and scurried to the center of the floor. She knew how it aggravated Kim when she was late. As she fell in line, her partner took her hands, shaking his head in mock disapproval of her tardiness.
Stifling a giggle, Abby followed her partner's lead as they began a basic Cha-Cha step. Her right foot stepped to the side followed by left foot forward and then back in place went her right foot. As they moved to the other side, Abby's left foot leading, replaced by her right foot and stepping a third time with her left foot, she had to fight the urge not to tip over. Maybe two margaritas wasn't the best idea before dance.
Finishing the final two steps of the Cha-Cha basic, Abby's partner tightened his grip to steady her. She stepped backward with her right foot and forward with her left, plunging the heel of her ballroom shoe into the big toe of her poor partner. Barely keeping it together, the pair hobbled through the basic one more time: right foot side, left foot forward, right foot in place, left foot side, right foot side, left foot side once again, right foot backward, and left foot forward.
The had more work to do, but if Abby laid off the margaritas and began to show up on time, she was sure they would be ready in time for their show.
Exercise Six
Was he thrilled about being in a parade at 10:00 AM? Probably not, but it was hard to tell from his expression. With his head tilted to the side and a giant goofy grin spread across his face, the sarcastic excitement poured from his expression. He'd do anything for the five year old that shared his last name, even if it meant gluing flags and streamers to her bike all morning or walking next to her training wheels for the whole parade. His green tinted tennis shoes gave away that he was more sk**ed in cutting gra** than trays of brownies, but he was proud of the job he had done on his wife's baked goods, clutching the tray in his hand as he posed for a picture behind his daughter's bike. The plastic plate of brownies balanced in his giant hands didn't seem like enough to feed the whole neighborhood, but they sure looked like enough to keep him occupied while the sun beat down on his Husker ball cap. He wasn't one to keep his hands out of the cookie jar and you could put money on some of the brownies going missing before the parade was over. He could feel the tan on his neck and forearms deepening and knew it wouldn't be long till it would look like he was wearing a t-shirt full time. It didn't matter though. Everyone could see he was a proud papa, what other dad's showed up for a ten-minute walk down the neighborhood hill on a steamy Fourth of July morning? Not-a one.