Plotting and planning, broke, and angry at drunk drivers.

Let's start with my rant. What's the deal with drunk drivers? And more specifically, what's the deal with drunk drivers driving down NE Dekum St. near 30th hitting my cars? I questioned Geico why my insurance premium was doubling when moving to Portland, and they cryptically explained that I now lived in a CITY. Well, in the past week, my car was clipped - dented and scratched, giving a knock to the side view mirror. But last night, Brenda's car was all-out smashed. The entire left back side was knocked in, and the car shifted forward about 20 feet up onto the curb. Both of these incidents were hit and run. I guess Geico knows. So my car joins the scarred, tattered armada of Portland's automobiles, and Brenda's... well I don't know yet.

Last night I made an Excel spreadsheet to lay out all the dance classes in Portland that I want to take. A good number are at Portland Community College. This is one of the most affordable options, but it depends on me getting my OR Driver's license within the next days, and I just failed the driving test, so I have to go back on Monday. Does anyone else know whether you should follow 15, 20, 25, or 30 feet behind a slow-moving vehicle? And a better question, can any of you judge those distances by eye? If I can get it all sorted, I'll be taking 2-3 beginning ballet classes (3-4 days/ week), along with daily Pilates. All this on top of my hip hop classes I've been going to.

Also, out dancing last night, I was given a card by a lady who hadn't partner danced in 30 years. It's amazing when you go to a bar or a jazz band and ask some of the older ladies to dance. The story is very frequently the same. In Virginia, one woman told me she hadn't danced like that in 80 years! When I dance with someone like that, I remember what partner dancing is all about: listening, communicating, creating. It feels good. The lady from last night wants to do a professional trade in energy work. "Shaman" is among them. I'm going to work with her next week.

On a final note, I need some income. I'm shaking the metaphorical couch cushions of the local scenes. I will work for almost anything just to get my name out. I need some private students.