In general, I prefer “the darkest beer you have on tap,” but I have to admit — on a warm summer evening, a nice unfiltered Hefe with lemon can really hit the spot.

When I pack the car for BlogHer, I’ll try to remember to bring you the fruits of the best brewery in America, the New Glarus Brewery, a Wisconsin institution that isn’t licensed for interstate commerce.

I would not hesitate for a moment to scan and post a photo of the beloved at any point in her many, many years of ballet study. She might, of course. And since I intend to continue my relationship with her ’til death do us part, I suppose I’d only post them if she gave the OK. Sigh.

But just yesterday in the back yard, when our girlie was doing a kind of free-lance Martha Graham/Isadora Duncan immitation and the downstairs girl cousin was practicing high kicks, the beloved grabbed her ankle and indicated how high she used to be able to pull her leg. Meaning, pretty much right up next to her ear.

Oh, and I had to ask her what a pirouette is. When she was at the barre, I, on the other side of the country, was on my hands and knees in the cow pasture, staring at the developing pollywogs in the pond. Praying that the Scary Bull was too involved in his munching to notice me.

I’m kind of impressed you know what a pirouette is. Granted, after my own umpteen little girl dance classes I can’t remember. But, I’ll bet Beloved’s aisle kicking would have been totally worth it just to see your face — provided she had the digital camera handy

Oh, and directorgrrl, you know you can’t adequately bring the televangelist analogy without a few unknown tongues — although for some, I suppose A Chorus Line would qualify

and ‘every little step’ for me was a spiritual experience. not unlike an audience member in those televangelist shows, though i restrained myself a bit.