Tuesday, November 25, 2008

the angel

i know how to make an angel out of reynold's wrap.

i called a psychic last week.

i put on the beach boys and tear off a sheet of foil. annie pulls some feathers out of the craft box and begins to tell me the psychic's prognosis: apparently their marriage is not supposed to last the year. i raise my eyebrows and cinch the waist of my angel, doing my best to not make her look like a barbie. annie lines up strips of tape on the edge of the table and i take a minute to sprinkle salt on a spoonful of ice cream. i fold a piece of foil into the shape of a book and put it in the angel's hands. is she reading a vogue?, annie asks. no, i say decidedly, 'valley of the dolls'. annie lines up hot pink pom poms, taping an eyeball to each one, and says, next year is so going to be my year. i nod as i cut long strips of foil, weaving them haphazardly into the angel's head. she looks like a bad ass. like she could really give those guys at the gate a run for their money.

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