Girls’ Night Out

tickets

Alison rifled through the detritus littering the bottom of her purse a moment longer before giving up and dumping the whole mess on the coffee table.

“I can’t find the tickets to save my life, Liza, I’m so sorry,” Alison apologized to her friend. The tone of her voice was contrite, but the fury with which she continued to shuffle through her belongings betrayed another, overbearing feeling of discontent. “Let me check my wallet again.”

Liza leaned back into the waiting comfort of the couch and continued to watch the scene unfold, feeling completely disconnected even though without her presence, Alison would still be asleep. She kept her mouth shut, knowing better than to waste her breath on sentences that Alison would never hear in her current emotional state.

“Ta-da!” Alison called in a sing-song, bursting with pride to have found the tickets that she was sure she’d thrown in the trash with the series of receipts that marched constantly through her belongings. “I was positive they were in there!”

Liza smiled mildly, more amused by Alison’s reaction than impressed by the actual discovery of the tickets. She pulled her feet back and stood up, arching her back in a stretch that popped her back three times in a row, like gunshots in the new silence. “Let’s go then,” she said.

Alison cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you even want to know what we’re going to see?” she asked her friend.

“Nope. It’s more fun when it’s a surprise. And besides, even if it turns out to be some horrible hypnotist, if I don’t know who we’re going to see, I can blame all of my discontent on you.” Liza smiled again, more sweetly this time, but with a hint of venomous honesty.

“I swear, Liza, I’m through apologizing for that lackluster son of a bitch that we wasted nearly a hundred bucks on. That was three years ago, for crying out loud, and he was so highly reviewed in that Examiner article. You can’t put all the blame on me. I won’t take it.” Alison was so upset that she was mangling those poor abused tickets in the hand fisted at her side. Her purse swung loosely from her shoulder, empty of her belongings.

Liza scooped up Alison’s wallet from the mess on the table. “Put the tickets in the change compartment. I’ll grab your keys.”

Alison’s jaw dropped when she realized that Liza was utterly refusing to rise to the occasion and fight about the ventriloquist they’d seen at the Lake Theater. It would have been the fourteenth time they’d fought about it; two more and Alison would probably have paid Liza to drop the whole thing once and for all. But she didn’t consciously understand that. It was more a feeling of poison ivy, itching just behind her right temple every time Liza brought up that spectacularly failed girls’ night out.

A reflected flash of light blinded Alison as Liza paused at the door, swinging Alison’s keys around and around the first finger of her left hand. “Get it, girl. Shoes on, show’s starting.” Liza winked and walked out of the apartment without bothering to make sure that Alison was following instructions.

Alison slipped into her pumps and trotted obediently behind her friend, locking the door behind her on her way out.

 


Bedtime, Girls Night, and Dreams

My husband works 11-3 and 5-10 on Sundays, and our daughter gets dropped off at noon, so most of the day it’s just us girls.

Today was one of the best days ever for night-nights. I got her down for her nap in ten minutes, and bedtime only took fifteen! She does not want to go to sleep for me. Dad’ll be in and out of her room in five minutes or so most times, but I usually almost always get 60-90 minutes of screaming hissy fits. I pat, I rock, I sing, no difference. This has been my lot since the first nights she spent here a year ago, at eleven months. I feel your pain, Elphaba! I’m so fortunate that his schedule and the interim ruling mean Sunday is the only day I get to do this now!

Sunday is also nail clipping day, and while she’s not exactly a fan of the clipping part, she absolutely loves nail polish. We have a girly girl, folks. All nail polish is ‘pink toes!’ As long as we paint first, we can clip all day long. Today after bathtime I even let her pretty me up some.

20120422-215504.jpg She only got a little on her belly, so we’re calling it good. Probably should have done this before bathtime.

And then we made rice pudding and watched The Secret Garden.

In other news, when my husband got to work this morning, his boss waylaid him to share that she and her husband both dreamed last night that we had boy/girl twins. I dreamed that five days ago. The girl was born first, and we named her after Grandma Inez. The boy’s name was one we agreed on a few months ago. Peeing bright and early next Sunday!