No es triste? She wishes she could dance!
Like the cucumber...libre y suavemente.
But she can't. Not even at Uncle Louie's polka party.
Well, maybe the tomate (look at my picture, look at Bob the Tomato...family resemblance, no?) doesn't really want to dance. Okay, yeah, she does, but she knows her body won't cooperate any more.
But what she really wishes is that these modern contra dances were set up more like the dances back in Jane Austen's day. Or, at least, Jane Austen's day as portrayed in the movies. With, you know, comfy-ish chairs around the edges where the old ladies sit. Because it would be really fun to pretend to be Mrs. Bennet at one of these deals...sit there cramming cake in one's mouth and being loud and vulgar and speculating about how much money the young men make.
I really don't act like that all the time. Well, okay, but it's cookies, not cake. (See note above re: family resemblance and rotundity) And I don't talk with my mouth full. Much.
Unlike Mrs. Bennet, though, I would for sure bring some knitting or crocheting to work on. You've got to wonder how many of her nerve problems and how much of her crankiness were brought on by sitting around watching young people spinning around at high rates of speed.