I’ve had two classes to go to this month–dance class and sewing machine class. I reported on swing dancing a few weeks ago and predicted success at the end of the four week class. Well, let’s just say we dropped that class and will re-take it before graduation. We missed last week at the last minute to go to the Utah Democratic Party inaugural celebration, and last night Mr. Isbell and I looked at each other and said, “Let’s not.” (To make us sound less like lazy quitters, the class was HUGE, so we weren’t sure we could pick up what we missed; and our original plan was to take it with another couple, which we still want to try to do.)
But sewing machine classs was going well, and tonight was going to be my final class. Except while not at dance class last night I got a call from my friend Sean saying, “Scopes Monkey Trial! Kingsbury Hall! Culture!” After some confusion, it turned out he had scored tickets to the one-night only LA Theater production of “The Great Tennessee Monkey Trial.” So I’ll be skipping class tonight*, too.
Apparently, I’m still 21 and think skipping classes without consequence is AWESOME. Hey, let’s go get a bagel instead of going to Music Theory!
*I can still go to the Saturday morning session of sewing machine class, so I won’t miss vital information about using a walking foot. Otherwise, I would have had to say, “No Monkey Trial.”