appropriately, a valentine

If you are not watching 82-year-old Cloris Leachman dance up a comedic diva storm on “Dancing With The Stars,” then you are missing out big time, Peaches. You really are. Almost the only reason to watch the show, for me. Tonight, an epic, dramatic, Norma-Desmond-ish tango. At one point, she lifted one of her 82-year-old legs — straight up — and was dragged or twirled or whatever across the dance floor on the other leg. Good Lord. I don’t think I could even do that and I am at least 62 years younger than she is. The audience was on its feet for her at the end. She deserved it.

So what does this all mean, you ask? It means that I am basically in love with Cloris Leachman right now and no one could be more surprised than I at my new twittery crush on a member of the geriatric set. But how can I help it, I implore you? She is hilarious, inspiring, and a little pistol of a dancer. Okay. Really? I want her to be my gammie. My raunchy, raucous gammie. But with hot chocolate and cookies. Please, Cloris Leachman. I don’t have any gammies left and even when I did have them, well, I barely knew them and they weren’t nearly as fun as you, and I’m pretty sure that their four legs combined could not do what just one of your legs did tonight. And I don’t even know what the heck that means, I’m just so gobsmacked by you. What I’m saying, Cloris Leachman, is I have an opening in my life for someone just like you.

Be my little vixen gammie.