Do It Badly, But Do It!

I love to sing.

I can barely carry a tune, but that doesn't stop me from belting out songs. I embarrassed my husband one night at a bar when I got up and sang with a group of musicians. I was a little drunk, but that's not why I sang badly. I sang badly because I can't much carry a tune. But I love to sing!

You can ask any of my neighbors. I sing to my dogs every day. They love my Rolling Stones songs as well as my Frankie Lane "Jezabel". When I'm in the garden, I'm usually singing. Now, keep in mind, I'm not a "hummer" (well, I have been on occasion), but in this case, I'm talking about Carnegie Hall type loud singing!

My cousin Kelly from Oklahoma and her husband will implore me to sing a song called "All The Gold In California" because I sing it so funny. I don't sing it funny on purpose; it's just my voice. (Willie Nelson is not traditional either, now is he?) Okay, that does not matter to me in the slightest. It's not good, but it's me. And I have very few qualms about making a fool of myself.

It's the same thing with dancing. I'm not a good dancer. That NEVER stops me from dancing! Why? I love to dance! Dancing is really fun! I enjoy it! If I'm not doing it right or good, I really don't care! At the slightest provocation I will get my wiggle on. I have no inhibitions about if it's good or bad. I love doing it!

I love writing. That's why I have a blog. I love comments and getting to know a wide range of wonderful people from different locations, different walks of life, and different viewpoints. I don't pretend I'm a talented writer.

I'm just me. But that is enough!

Last Tango in Argentina

I want to go to Buenos Aries.

I want to dance the tango. Even if I dance it badly, I want to do it once. I want to wear 4 inch stiletto heels while I dance, and a red dress that has slits to expose my legs.

I want to hear the noise and music on the crowded streets and go to a club at 2:00 AM to watch the tango dancers exhibit their prowess, their passion, and sometimes their politics.

I want to feel the stifling afternoon heat and listen to the babble of Spanish language all around me, while I only understand every 4th word. I want to sweat in the 3:00 PM sun and go back to my air conditioned hotel room for a cool shower and a siesta before my midnight dinner.

I want to walk the streets late at night. I want to explore the cemetery where Eva Peron lies 18 levels below the surface.

I want to drink Malbec wine until my lips are stained a dark red.

I want to dance the tango before I die.