SEATTLE "Folsom!" Jenny whispers into the mike, then flashes her klieg-light Zen grin.
My singer-songwriter cousin is gigging with her husband Ronnie Champagne at Park Pub a first since they moved here last autumn. As they kick into Johnny Cash's groove, their bodies start to sway in tandem. She knock-knees as he solos. He shuffles back two steps so her voice can soar. They lean together for a fast-pickin' passage.
The physical duet almost rivals the music's beauty.