shining interludes

I've had a rough time of it, lately, but there have been some shining moments. I am consistently astounded by how great it feels to dance. Yesterday's emotional and physical challenges would normally have kept me home cocooning for the night-- and I did limit the night's agenda by missing a birthday party-- but I felt I ought to push myself to get on the dance floor. Last night's milonga was a costumed affair, so I put on my rhinestone-studded false eyelashes, draped ridiculous amounts of jewelry around my neck, picked up my dancing shoes and headed out as Rhinestone Barbie.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words. Here are a thousand words on how I feel about tango these days:



I've been encouraged to add another detail from last night's milonga...

I had several short conversations with a Russian gentleman between sets of dancing. After some conversation about his background he asked me what my cultural background is. "I'm first generation Canadian," I said, "Born of Dutch immigrants."

"You don't look Dutch," he replied.

"Well, I might not look Dutch in this," I said, gesturing grandly at my glittery get-up, "But you should see me milk a cow."

I don't know where that came from, but he about fell off his chair laughing.