Since I love to perpetuate a stereotype I have to admit that lately I've been craving a good ol' fashioned Hollywood musical and nothing satisfies that kind of craving more than a silver screen dose of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. I don't recall which Astaire and Rogers musical I saw first when I was a child...it was a hot summer afternoon and I was watching forbidden daytime television at my friend Heather's house. While I don't recall the title of that film, I do remember that I was completely transfixed by the luminous black and white images flickering on the television screen. I had never seen anything like it....the costumes, the music, the sets and the incredible dancing of Astaire and Rogers.....their fluid grace punctuated by the precise click, clack of tap shoes. I ran home that afternoon and, with dramatic open arms and a big gap-toothed smile, announced to my Mother's noticeable dismay that I wanted to be "a tap dancer!" as I clicked and clacked around the dining table, my sandals slapping the hard tile floor. My Mother, in a futile attempt to alter the inevitable, immediately signed me up for Little League Baseball.