I had one of those floaty, lovely dancing evenings last night. I hadn’t danced since Friday, so I was itching to go. Wednesday nights have my favorite place to dance when I am looking for an intimate location with some of my favorite leaders (and few others!). When I first went here, I felt like it was an insiders’ milonga – the place for people who can handle floorcraft (it’s a fairly compact floor), who are itching to dance in the middle of the week, who seem to be the best dancers in town. I felt a little like an intruder at first, but I am integrated now and danced a couple hours away with some really lovely leaders.
I slipped my feet into my favorites shoes, the ones that fit like a glove and bend like ballet slippers. I know that some people want more support from their shoes, but these are exactly what feels good to me. I had a surreal moment when, in the middle of a song, I opened my eyes and noticed a couple sitting on the side of the floor who were talking and pointing at my feet! Both have seen my shoes enough times and were talking about my feet long enough that I can only assume they were talking about my feet themselves, and my dancing. What a strange and thrilling feeling. Even more thrilling was the feeling of that last song of the night, having had a whole evening of beautiful dancing to relax and regenerate me, with the opportunity to melt into his arms in my favorite truly close embrace (you know, where the leaders clasps your right hand to his chest?) and just move.