SEATTLE, Washington – Amy's trying to do my make-up, as people arrive for our Christmas dinner. I'm pup-wriggling, almost seismographing eyeliner across my forehead. Then, petulantly, I stomp my high heels – clop, clop, clop – and her calm shatters.
"Stop being such a tomboy!" She lards on a full-finger wag.
I sass back with maybe a few more clops: "Not really going to happen after 33 years!"
And then we both burst out laughing, as only great friends can, no matter who has waxed brows* and who has 17-year-old resoled Raichles.
*Amy is, in fact, an insanely tough woman – kibbutz-strong, as T.C. Boyle would say – even if she hasn't grunged backcountry loads (yet). Much as I rib her and Anna's and Sascha's civilizing attempts, I remember coaxing a certain All-Star Diver into her first skirt last year: pure misery ... But, you know, I don't want to check my ovaries at the dock or trailhead. I'm not ace at being a girl, but I plan to keep working at it ... especially with little black dive dresses and New Year's Eve beehives, perhaps...
What a glamorous lady! Genuflecting to your hidden skills... I was unaware that I could have thrown down the "beehive card" to stop your squirming. :)
ReplyDeleteAmy
Phwoar, etc.
ReplyDeleteTa, Clair and Happy New Year, you stone cold fox!
ReplyDeleteAmy: Just wait until you see THIS next beehive... Back-combing is one femme skill I have mastered; probably because it involves messing stuff up.
Happy New Year, tomboy!
ReplyDeleteRats, she did it again!
ReplyDeleteDon't hide your godess skills, Amanda.
Back atcha, DB (except the tomboy part, natch).
ReplyDeleteSascha-bell! New pics forthcoming. I think you'll like the seedy Moulin Rouge effect...
ReplyDelete