A bit of a frenzy happened yesterday and my God, I can't thank enough all the people who have helped us pull off this coming tango weekend. Me, with my type A, everything-has-to-be-done right kicking in and Roscoe calling me the boss and saluting every time he sees me. Frank, the plumber and tango dancer, brings Frenchy to work on the outside commode. We feed them all lunch then Frank gets the itch to tango. Out of his car come his tango shoes. We are all dirty and tired, but gather in the tent.
Mike puts on the music and my lovely niece, Sue, shows up to watch and laugh at our craziness.
Off come my jeans and I wiggle into a skirt and 3" heels. Mike and I dance first. Not a good one, but I didn't expect much. Now Frank and I take the floor. Another one not so good. The milonga feels energetic and easy. Roscoe wants to give it a try so we do some walking. Roscoe is going to be a tango dancer, if he can settle down enough to learn. Sue, in a cast with a broken foot, declines a chance to walk around the floor, but I see the interest in her eyes. Frenchy steps on the floor last with his size 15 work boots.
Oh am I in trouble if he steps on my foot, but he catches on quickly to the tilt of his chest and his weight up and a bit forward. I tell him to walk as if he's on top of a pair of cross country skis and that he does- collecting the size 15's as he goes. This would have been a good one for YouTube. A sorrier looking group have never graced the tango floor, but what fun.... AND they'll all be back tomorrow.
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