Deploying Jazz Hands lying down is a rarity, but on this particular quiet Sunday morning I find myself floating around the pool, and can not think of a better place for a bit of peaceful, understated hand jazzing.
Quiet save for little winged creatures singing a territorial opera chorus of who belongs where. And the leaf blowers staking their claim on my eardrums. And the neighbor's clucking chickens. It seems the most quiet moments are provided by roaring jets overhead, bleating out the abundance of chirpy buzzed clucking.
Watching silver bullets find purchase into big pieces of floating popcorn, I stretch my arms out on either side of me, barely contacting the water, and deploy a relaxed, fluid form of Jazz Hands. The turbulence cause tiny ripples of pool water to dance around my fingers, disfiguring the reflection of the clouds.
In a few short hours, afternoon storms will drown the chorus of this quiet summer morning. Until then there is a 100% chance I will embrace the sun, the noisy winged creatures, the reflections and refractions of the billowing clouds and my hands dangling in the cool water. But not the leaf blowers staking their claim on my eardrums. I could live without that for the time being.
Today's Jazz Hands made waves. Day one-hundred and seventy-four complete.
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