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Not enough. Never enough.
Four months.
I'm still a tango baby.
I still don't have tango shoes and my poor ballroom shoes have taken such a beating. I'm pinning and tucking my various skirts and blouses as I've lost weight dancing so much. There is no workout on the planet that feels like this. A trip to the gym has never left me buoyant and giddy and completely exhausted at the same time.
And even more important than the above - the new people, new friends - and new world, that I am a part of now. I go to every milonga I can because there are different people in attendance at different venues and I want to see them all every week. I want to visit, chat, laugh, watch, admire, drink a little wine, giggle, make faces, cry, tell jokes, hug, kiss, comfort and be comforted.
I get asked almost every week how I fell so far into tango in such a short period of time. How can I be this addicted, this obsessed? I don't know, though I can speculate. First, I'm a writer - and writers are always ready to jump in. But there's more. I fell because I was ready to fall. Never more ready in my life. I stood on the precipice and faced a choice - fall in or fall out. I couldn't walk the line and observe. Tango asked me, "are you in or are you out?"
I'm in. All the way in.
Comments
;-)
Pamela: I think tango does find us. I'd been listening to tango music for years before I finally decided to learn to dance. So many things in my life and my world seemed to come together at one time - that it was just too compelling to ignore. A trusted friend, I had learned, was dancing tango - and then a free class at the university that I work - and then a chance viewing of The Tango Lesson - all of this within a week. I just told The Universe, alright already. I get it. I'll learn!
AmpsterTango and Claudita - you two remind of my favorite quote I read on a t-shirt. "Come to the dark side, we have cookies." (In this case, wine and empanadas.)