Day Five,

I was up early. Today I was going to dance with Dolly Parton. I showered and shaved. I patted on my best foo foo ,so I would smell good, and headed for the location the Beer Belly had given me. It was the basement of a Catholic Church. It was near where I was staying. Marjory Main greeted me at the door. Inside was a good mix of people my age. I didn’t see the 300 pounder. The three instructors were beautiful ladies who looked like retired Las Vegas show girls. They were wrinkled but in good shape. They called our group to attention. We were standing in ranks like soldiers on a drill field ready for a physical training exercise.

Line dancing is pretty cool but I didn’t realize how strenuous it can be. Kathy our instructress gave me direction on a few basic steps. I was standing there like a draft horse among a herd of gazelles when the music started. It was like jogging in place. I was immediately a step behind everyone. They would be facing north and I would be facing south. They would be doing a crossover step and I would be doing a hip hop step. I thought that first song would never end. When it did, the room got quiet except for my last two clunk stomp steps, which brought me to a standstill facing the thirty other dancers. They were all smiling, but they were kind. They clapped their hands and offered encouragement. The session lasted an hour. It was tough work. When I left my ass was dragging. I went to Lisa’s house and took a nap. All in all it was a fun time. Dolly Parton didn’t show up but I did meet some nice ladies. I would be leaving for Tunica soon but I would be back for another lesson on my return from the western swing of my trip. I am looking forward to it.

The rest of the day was spent paying my bills, and doing a little shopping. Setting up an on-line bill paying process can be frustrating. I brought along some old paid up bills so I would have addresses and phone numbers in case something went wrong. It went wrong with the first call. My biggest expense is for propane heating gas. I wanted to be sure I had a delivery so my pipes wouldn’t freeze up. I called the number on the bill. The phone rang and rang, but no answer. It was around noon time so I figured they were out to lunch. I called later and again got no answer. All I got was some dumbbell saying leave a message. I got mad and started complaining to my daughter about how casual northern people were about paying attention to business. I tried a third time and got that dummy who said to call back later. Lisa said, “Let me try.”

She took the bill and called the number. She started to smile when she got no answer. She handed me the bill and the phone so I could listen to that guy on the answering machine. “Daddy, I’ve known this guy all my life. It’s you. Try the number at the bottom of the bill.” I had been unknowingly calling myself on the phone. It’s tough getting old. I told Lisa it must have been either the hard work I did at dance class or the lingering effects of the Tequila I drank at the Empress Casino. She just smiled and gave me a hug. “I love you daddy, “she said.