My sister is here. Today, after having gone through the whole Pentateuch with me - oouch - which, unlike me, she knows by heart - I tried to get a word in. I said to her in all earnest, in response to her worry that I don't keep my Bible up: "err, yes, yesterday it was the book of Esther I had a look at." "Good," she said. To escape being further interrogated on what verse I remembered - and it was lucky that it just happened that I could deliver one - I told her that I was sent a CD with some Danish klezmer music to review. "Excellent," she then said, and urged me: "let's slip into the large skirts and dance some." So we did. And we had fun. While I'm no dancer - I can never remember the steps - she is a master. How wonderful to be reminded that counting can be used for something other than how many years one plans on being on this planet, and how many things one wants to do in the meanwhile...


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