around in synchronized woo-hooery with
their thumbs purposefully tucked into the
front pockets of their jeans.
It was so hilarious that we started
joining in ourselves, waving from the
middle of the sea of cowboy hats to our
friends—watch this! Then, uh, we’d stay
on the floor for the next song, just to try
and get that part down where you click
your heels right before the spin. Then we
found ourselves sneaking off every
weekend to merrily line dance our little
achy breaky hearts out.
This is sort of the same way the God
thing happened for me. It started out with
much snarkiness and eye rolling, but I
was so broke and clueless and sick of