I was dancing with one of my favorite Argentine tango followers last night in close embrace. She is a very good dancer. Despite that, she somehow kneed me in the balls. Not nearly enough to hurt, but enough for us both to be aware it happened.

So she knew, and I knew she knew.

We danced on with that little elephant in the room for another couple of measures, whereupon I whispered in her ear, "Is that all you've got?"

We both stopped dancing and bent over laughing uncontrollably.

"So you like it rough?"

"Sure, but not too rough, let's not get carried away!"

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I've always loved that California uses the letter Q on license plates (is it the only state to do so?). They make it a bit smaller than the other letters to better emphasize the squiggly thing that cuts through diagonally on the lower right corner of the Q, and said diminutive size makes it extremely cute! Click here for a photo I found on the internet illustrating the Q.

Well, I finally decided to make my move here official and get California plates last week, and wouldn't you know it, by sheer marvelous luck of the draw, I got a Q! I am thrilled!

So now I'm a member of The Q Club. The Q club, while a small minority, still comprises many members--the only thing is, none of them (to my knowledge) even knows about the club, or that they are in it. So I guess that makes me the de facto president of The Q Club.

I guess one other member knows about it--a woman in one of my dance classes has a Q, and I showed her my new plates the other day and told her that "see, now we are both in The Q Club." She smiled, although I'm not sure if it was from pleasure with her newfound knowledge about her membership in a club she hadn't known about before, or just pity.

And now, if you will excuse me, I will go about the rest of my wonderful president-of-The-Q-Club day!