A couple of weeks ago I'm cleaning dog turds out of the yard at 5:45pm when my daughter Emily snatches open the sliding door to the backyard and loudly proclaims "Dad, get ready - we're doing the Father-Daughter dance. Practice is at 6:00!"
Sure enough, 12 minutes later I'm in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and Topsider shoes in the dance studio down the street where Kim has a trade-out (graphics for dance lessons). Totally out of my element - whatever "my element" is - but no less so than the rest of the poor schmucks just like me. Hey, we had a great time, the girls were smiling the entire time and it's still six - count 'em *6* - weeks until show-time. Just one clue: Beach Boys. ;-)