A Life of Bright Ideas
“And when you dance, dance like you’re at Marty Graw.
“Where’s my new hot pants?” Winnalee called from the top of the stairs.
“On your dresser!” I called back. Her “new” hot pants were really a pair of white hip-hugger bell-bottoms with an impossible stain on the thigh, which she had asked me to make into short shorts because she knew white would look great under black lights. She’d run a strip of red Magic Marker on the fabric under the butt to show me where to hem them, not realizing that I had to go shorter or the marker would show. Then she had me tack a crocheted lace yolk on the back of the waistband. “I love the way you ran the patch of lace around one hip, too! Cool!” Winnalee called from the bedroom.
Winnalee clomped down the stairs in chunky-heeled white boots that laced to her knees. Her hair was hanging in still-damp ringlets, and her lips were glossed. She turned around and bent slightly. “Can you see my undies in these things?”
“Yeah,” I told her.
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