Saturday night, the local queer bar was hosting a Techno Dance, and I decided to go. I'd asked Mark if he was interested, and he wasn't, so I ended up going by myself. In a last minute effort, I wondered if any of my contacts on FaceBook might be going, but either they didn't see the post in time, or they weren't. So...after a disco nap, I wandered into the bar alone.
It's located in Rough-and-Tumble Downtown Eugene, near the Library. This isn't usually much of a problem, although there was an attempted murder in one of the nearby parking structures, and sometimes a few blocks over can be fairly sketchy. But Saturday the neighborhood was mostly harmless.
The bar itself is somewhere between comfortable and airport lounge.
I was a little worried that the music would be arrhythmic loops of water being poured into an aquarium patched in with random record scratches, but luckily, it wasn't. I didn't recognize any of the music, other than a brief sample of a Santana song, and I think the DJ's had three or four tracks they would fade various library samples from. For the most part the music was conducive to dancing, with some brief interlude sections where there might be an odd transition, or suddenly the foundation rhythm would go away and everyone would stop dancing, face the DJ stand, and sway hesitantly while the music re-organized itself.
My own transition went something like "old white guy bobbing his head in time with the music," to "musical background chorus dancer from a Muppet Movie," to "We're not sure if he's doing a Folk Dance, a Zumba Routine, or an Interpretive Dance As If It Were Done By Doctor Stephen Strange--but he's totally into it."
I haven't been dancing for a while, and enjoyed myself immensely. I had four interactions of note.
The first was with someone in drag. They had a fun looking long shaggy coat they were dancing in, and at one point we danced a few measures together, before dancing apart. Later, as I was getting a Coke at the bar, we had the following exchange (which Mark said was banter): DQ: "You dance really well." J: "Oh, thanks; it's fun." DQ: "Do you f*ck as well as you dance?" (this had to be repeated as I didn't hear them over the music) J (brightly): "Only with my husband." DQ: "Oh. Lucky him."
The second was with a twenty-something guy who I first saw wearing a soft backpack, and gave the strong impression of traveling everywhere out of it. He approached me as I was dancing near the stage and said, "I really like the energy you're bringing to the dance floor. You seem like you could dance forever." J: "Oh thanks. I'm glad to be dancing." This somehow evolved into a hug--one hand on my chest and the other arm against the small of my back--which I returned in a Eugene Hippy Kind of way.
The third was someone I thought I recognized... and he was Very Happy, Very Big, Very Tactile, Very Friendly, and Very Distractable. I'd say this was the most awkward moment of the night, because when I sashayed over to say hi, it turned into something like dancing with a sleep-walking bear who may have mistaken you for a pot of honey. My hair seemed fascinating for the interval that it held his attention. After several attempts, I managed to dance away. One of his friends wiggled her fingers in front of his eyes, and he returned to his happy swaying.
The fourth was a twenty-eightish dancer, dressed all in black. By this time, I was doing a full-on, dancing from my hands Doctor Strange routine. The music mix was hitting all the right notes, and it was that time around midnight when the dance floor has a high tide of people surging on it (in fifteen minutes or so there will be a sudden ebb of folks). We locked eyes, and various lindy and arming steps followed. It was fun, but we never were able to sustain steps for longer than about four measures, probably because we never figured out who was leading and who was following. I think we were both trying to lead.
I danced past midnight, and then it was time to go. I was feeling a little tired after two hour of almost continuous hopping up and down and dance floor had a tired vibe to it.
When I got home, I realized that I smelled like someone's cologne--and since I didn't want to have my own personal verse of "Things That Make You Go Hmmm," I rinsed it off.
It's rare for us to get even an inch, so many services--including the schools and universities--shut down.
The snowfall started Sunday afternoon, and the weather service was predicting anywhere from four to eight inches accumulation, so we weren't too surprised when we opened the blinds and there was snow everywhere.
I got up early and walked about through the snowstorm taking pictures. At first we only had maybe eight inches, but the snow kept falling and falling and by noon or so we were up to thirteen.
In the middle of the morning it was still snowing, and various birds were out. A large flock of crows landed in the trees across the street. I thought maybe I'd get a photo like one taken a year or two ago in Portland where there were something like a hundred black crows in the white snowy branches of a tree. But today's crows weren't as numerous.
Later in the afternoon, Mark and went for a walk. The snow at our house was wet, and water flowed on the street underneath it. 
Our neighbors across the street were shoveling out their car. 
Our neighbors up the street were building an igloo. 
We passed about four different groups of kids with sleds on as many different slopes.
