Oh my. The weather is grimm. 90-something degrees with gusty allergy inducing wind. I call it maniac weather. It’s the kind of weather that makes people lose it.
I did venture out to the cafe earlier. I had flowers to plant. Yesterday I ripped out all the spring dregs and planted fresh marigolds, dianthus and other assorted pretties I have no names for. It looks much cleaner, healthier and nicely fresh, then I skiddadled home and have declared it an inside day, which is fine.
I seem to be suffering from post lust withdrawls. It was destined to happen. When I ignore my good sense–okay, if I ignore my friends’ good sense, then fallout is inevitable. What can I say. when a terribly handsome, roguish, tall, blue eyed, hunk of a tango dancing man has you wrapped in his arms, even on the dance floor, I suffer good sense amnesia–and I bet you would too, babe.
In retrospect, I’d do exactly the same thing. I’d hold our abrazos (embrace) a little longer, hook my ganchos a little harder about his leg, slow my sacadas to the exact pace of his foot as he slides mine across the floor. Sigh.
The good news, really, beyond the lust, the ennui, the doubt, the ache, the whatever, is I want to dance again. It’s back, I hope, to stay for a while.
I just found this on YouTube. Who wouldn’t want to dance with Antonio Baderas. Plus, I love the neuvo music.