I've been attending a lot of meetings lately, and that means time alone in the car.
Time when I can whiz along the highway* and turn the music up.
And loud music and faster speeds? Cry out for a little front-seat dancing.
So there I was tonight, tooling along, shaking off the sick-kids-and-sick-husband-mindset, doing head bobs and alternating shoulder swoops and getting down with my (really not so) bad self, she moves her body like a cyclone blaring on the radio and singing along as best I can and feeling like a teenager at the club, all funky and badass and NotMom
and I look next to me at the car pulling level with my own, waiting before I pull into the passing lane
and there, Oh God, MOUTH OPEN, brows knit incredulously, is one of the women I sit with on one of my committees, and in the backseat?
(watching just as intently)
Two other women, both of whom I know from town somewhere. Lord knows how long they'd been following me. The radio kept pumping out noise and I gave a quick, embarrassed grin and a sketchy wave and they pulled ahead and I slowed a bit and made sure not to follow too closely.
I had a hard time meeting her eyes at the meeting tonight, sure every time I spoke she was remembering me jouncing and the loud music and the singing.
And then I thought Eh, and went on to other things.
And I danced in the seat going home.
*note to husband: Am not leadfoot. Am NOT.