Girls Girls Girls

Heather, Eden, and Melissa just left town, and I miss them.

Eden’s face, always seems more familiar than it should for the few times we’ve met. She looks and acts quite a bit like Ms. Champ. They both share that walking-painting quality. But today I came across pictures of Eden as a young ‘un and realized that she also looks related to me.

Heather had 24 hours here, so we stayed up until 4 a.m. pinky swearing, talking about boys, discussing new hairstyles, and getting drunk. Actually, only I got drunk, Heather just smirked at me. This is because Heather, who weighs fifteen pounds, could drink a team of seasoned Teamsters under the table and still remember to keep her knees together because she’s wearing a skirt.

Melissa is similarly evolved. She and I had a semi-serious conversation about whether it’s appropriate to teach your children how to moderate a buzz to spare them years of experimental suffering at the hands of bourbon. We decided no.