There’s No Farting in Ballroom

WARNING: If you are offended by bodily functions, you may want to skip today’s post. Carry on. There’s nothing for you here.

If you’re a fan of The Dancing Housewife, you know I spend a lot of time bemoaning the fact that my pro-am partner, Newell, is significantly younger than me. You’d think after lessons, training and competing with him for a year, I’d be over it. I’m not.

Not to harp, but you’ve got to admit in normal social situations there’s

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The Dancing Housewife on How to Spice Up a Marriage

The Dancing Doc had way more fun than he expected in his competitive debut. Of course he did because 1) he danced with me and  2) he danced with me. Check out the post-competition pictorial wrap…

Don’t we look happy? Crap loads of fun aside, there are significant advantages to dancing full-on amateur with your spouse over dancing pro-am with someone half your age (okay, less than half your age).

Cost.  No brainer. Sure, it took something like ten months of

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Kicking and Screaming

For those of you assuming I drag my poor husband, kicking and screaming, to the dance studio, think again. He likes to dance as much as I do. In fact, our very first date back in 1982 was an eight-hour dance marathon. Apparently he fancied himself a pretty good dancer back then and figured he could impress me with his snappy moves. He was right. We went all the way that night… as in WE DANCED THE ENTIRE 8 HOURS WITHOUT

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