This Week's Allotment

I must have used the entire week's allotment of grace, poise and self-control at last night's milonga, because today I woke up with none. My hair decided to announce it's kinship to Medusa, none of my clothes seemed to feel right, my coffee spilled before I even had a chance to sip it, the first marionberry I bit into (fresh off the vine!) was sour, the first bite of my fried egg sandwich splooged yolk all over my skirt (though my children made it for me, how sweet are they?)...

And all of that is just fine because, well, last night's milonga was lovely. Really really lovely. The music was divine. There wasn't a single tanda that I didn't want to dance because of the music. Dancers came that I don't often see, and are of a caliber that make we wonder whether I want to dance or watch. I sat with some lovely friends. I had dance after dance, and I felt confident and comfortable in almost every embrace. It was lovely. *pleasurable sigh*

I did sit out a couple tandas because the floor got a little wild for me. Those dancers of a higher caliber, well....they excite the leaders and there were Wilde Boleos loose all over the floor. With sharp sharp teeth. And when they are loosed on the floor, their predatory nature is keen. They stalk through the ronda with the grace, speed, beauty and self-ness of a killer; sharp teeth and wicked claws flying. I had no intention of being one of the casualties. And, in actuality, there was little bloodshed.

Before I knew it, it was midnight and I was scurrying home before I lost my slipper.