How low can you go?

It's Sunday, and I'm kicking back with Rod Stewart's CD "The Great American Songbook."  Don't snicker behind my back at today's musical selection until you are listening to Rod croon "These Foolish Things" while you are in the embrace of someone that warms your heart or at the very least your groin.  Someone like ... say ... my XXB who is an infrequent but affectionate visitor of mine.  The slow dance which followed our lingering embrace teased on by this song should quickly beat back any thought of ridicule for my musical diversity.  A slow dance which prompted my XXB to suggest that he and I take dance classes.  You know, the kind of dance classes which requires thought and a degree of humility.  I've taken formal dance classes before, and can usually follow someone who knows how to lead, but I'm no Ginger Rogers, even though I have always wanted to tuck that skill under my skirt.  Who knows, an opportunity for that pursuit may still present itself.

There are a few other skills which I've entertained over the years -- shooting, boating, seemingly effortless cooking, and shameless flirting top the list.  I'm sure you have your own list.

After we finished dancing, and parted from an embrace, I was telling my XXB about a game that my family and I played Thanksgiving day called Loaded Questions, and I asked him one of the questions from the game.  I asked him how he would describe my lifestyle in two words.  The one description that he mentioned which stuck in my craw, was low key.  Even though low key is probably an accurate description of my life (and the lives of most people I know for that matter), the words low key made my brain bristle.  Something deep inside of me thinks that a low key life is for someone else, not for me, but the rational side of me keeps reminding me that my choices scream low key.  Great, another fork in the road.  Can't I just go back to listening to Rod's sultry voice and pretend that I'm much more adventuresome than my life suggests?  

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