Dancing Queen

Okay, so I’ve gotten your worried e-mails, your Tweets and your Facebook postings. And I’m sorry I’ve been BLOGWOL for a few weeks, but please don’t worry. All is well. I’ve simply been busy– truthfully, about as busy as I’ve ever been in my life.

The short version—I went to New York for a McDonalds launch party, flew to Washington to cover a speech given by the President, went back to New York for a week to shoot part of season two of I’ll Take That Dare, spent another week shooting the rest of the season here in Nashville, and currently am taking several weeks to help put the show together. It was also my kids’ last month of school, so I had to take care of all the hoopla that comes along with that – preschool graduation for Bruiser, end-of-the-year school picnics, teacher presents, and on and on and on. By the end of last week, I was ready to collapse with exhaustion.

And on that note, we left last Saturday for a week at the beach.

I’ve spent the last seven days sleeping in, reading, and eating seafood fresh off the fishing boats. And while I couldn’t avoid doing a little bit of work while I was away, I did make a conscious effort NOT to blog. I have a busy summer ahead and knew I needed a break. We got back from the beach last night and I’m feeling rested, restored, and ready to tackle the summer, which will include a two-week road trip for Moms Matter, a work trip to Chicago, work-related training in New York, a tenth anniversary trip with my husband to Quebec, two trips to blog conferences in New York and New Orleans, the Republican and Democratic Conventions, and various camps, Vacation Bible School, and summer activities for the kids.

Wow. I’m starting to get stressed again. Deep breaths.

Let’s just not think about that right now, okay? For now, we’ll stay in vacation mode.

My family stayed this past week in a luxurious resort on Hammock Beach in Florida, thanks to friends who generously loaned us their condominium for the week. It was amazing, and I’ll write all about the area and the resort in a second post because if you, like me, have never heard of Hammock Beach and the surrounding area, you need to know about it. It is a fantastic family beach option.

For now, though, I want to tell you about Friday night. Dennis and I had planned to have a mini-date night that night and go out for a drink after dinner, while my stepdaughters watched a movie with our little ones. After a full day on the beach, though, none of the kids wanted to get dressed for dinner. Instead, we picked up dinner for them at a nearby supermarket, and ended up having the entire evening to ourselves. The two of us went to dinner as planned at Flagler Fish Company, a fantastic fish market/restaurant where you can choose the fish you eat for your dinner straight from the case up front. We had a marvelous meal there, then stopped by JT’s, a locals’ hangout, for a drink. At around ten, we returned to our resort and decided to drop in to the resort bar, Loggerheads, to check it out. Inside, we hit the motherlode.

It was a typical resort bar, with plenty of plush tables and chairs, a dance floor, and a Friday night cover band playing everything from 60s beach tunes to Bryan Adams. But the crowd was pretty incredible.

As Dennis ordered a glass of wine and a beer from the bar, I stared in delight at the people on the dance floor. In one corner, a couple in expensive beachwear was doing their own private version of the lambada. In another, a Polo-clad man in his sixties was dancing like a fool with a girl who seemed to be his adult daughter. In the center of the dance floor, a tanned young man in pressed pink shorts was dancing like there was no tomorrow with two less-enthusiastic friends. Next to him, an aging Jersey Shore type in matching red sports jersey, shorts and shoes danced with a bleached and botoxed woman in sequined short shorts and platform heels. It was an odd crowd, to say the least, and what made it wonderful was that everyone was dancing with complete, crazy abandon.

What else was there to do but join them?

Dennis and I rarely go dancing, but on this night, we danced to Prince’s “Kiss” and “Sweet Home Alabama,” “Shout” and “Blister in the Sun,” and anything else the band came out with. The dance floor grew more crowded as the clock struck midnight and those already on the dance floor got crazier. A group of middle aged women in resort wear formed a tight pack at the front of the dance floor. One of them grabbed a tambourine from the band and spent a good five minutes whacking each band member on the behind, one after another, as she danced. The fact that the band members obviously weren’t happy about what she was doing made the whole thing even more hilarious and surreal. Shoes were abandoned beside the dance floor. Drinks were spilled, napkins were spread, and people cleaned up by dancing on napkins. At one point, I looked down and the sixty-something year-old man in Polo was on his back, while dancers holding his arms and legs spun him in circles. By the time the band played its last song, the dance floor was completely full and Hubs and I were exhausted.

It was the best date night I’ve had in a long, long time.

In a four-star resort overflowing with golfers, wealthy retirees, world travelers, and sunkissed families clad in matching madras, it was in a cheesy resort bar on a Friday night that I finally found my people—the ones who simply didn’t give a damn. They came from different generations and backgrounds, and all were united by their simple desire to have a little fun. There was no posturing here. No name dropping. No casual references to yachts or luxury cars or designer labels. Together, we danced. We made fools of ourselves, if the truth be known. (There was a moment when Hubs attempted to pick me up off the ground that I’m working very hard now to put an emotional block on.) And we had one amazing, unforgettable night.

Those of you who read this blog regularly know that this is a life-changing year for me. I’ve gotten to cover the presidential race, visit the White House, and meet and interview some of our nation’s political gamechangers. I’ve traveled back and forth across the country and visited small towns and big cities. And as you’re going to see in the coming weeks, I also got the opportunity to do some really incredible things for Season Two of I’ll Take That Dare.

If this year is teaching me anything, it’s that it’s time for me to stop being so careful all the time, and to stop doing what I think is expected of me. It’s time to stop worrying about what everyone around me is thinking and saying. It is a time for confidence- real confidence that comes with knowing that I’m no more or less important than anyone around me, and knowing that my family matters more, far more, than anything else. I’ll turn 37 this week and these upcoming years can be my very best, if I let them.

It is, finally, time to dance.