May Flowers

Sophie/Ms. Glitterson and Chip having tea. Photo by Kris Kimel Photography

On Sunday Kris and Bun and Sophie came over so we could take some pictures in my flowery yard. We sat in my bedroom for a while, looking at the props and waiting for the perfect light. We were trying on tiaras and huge clip-on rhinestone earrings and telling stories about our cats . . . and Jake. Kris said Jake was so excited the weekend he and Sophie and Kris went to Wild Adventures. He said, “Oh cool, Mommy. When I go to school tomorrow, I get to brag.” And when he came home from school, he said, happily, “I got to brag and lie today, Mommy!” Apparently, he had felt the need to exaggerate a little about the trip to Wild Adventures. Kris and I were the same way when we were kids. We were always exaggerating for effect.

We ate blackberries and picked chard and played with the goldfish in the pond, and then the light started to sparkle and slant. It was picture-taking time.

“Come on, Sophie,” Kris said. “Let me curl your hair.”

When Sophie was in the bathroom getting her hair curled, she transformed, quite suddenly, into Ms. Rainbow Glitterson, international superstar. Ms. Glitterson was a bit of a diva, to say the least.

“Don’t talk to me!” she’d say. “Don’t touch me!”

Bunny and I were her two star-struck assistants.

“Miss Glitterson is so down to earth,” I sighed.

“I know,” Bun agreed. “She’s a class act.”

“I’m the president of her fan club,” I bragged.

Ms. Glitterson slapped me across the face.

“Oh, wow,” I said dreamily. “She touched me. I’m never washing this cheek again.”

Ms. Glitterson was wearing a black dress, elaborate curls, a tiara, an elasticized rhinestone bracelet, and huge rhinestone earrings.

We wanted Sophie/Ms. Glitterson to sit on an old quilt and have tea among the coneflowers with my old teddy bear Chip. Chip is so cute, probably a good 80 years old. He likes to wear necklaces, and he’s missing all the stuffing in one foot.

Kris sighed, “Oh, poor Chip with his blown-out foot . . .”

Bun and Kris thought Chip was the cat’s pajamas, but Sophie didn’t much care for him.

“Pick Chip up, Sophie,” Kris instructed from behind her camera. “Pick him up and hold him and gaze into his eyes.”

“No, I don’t want to!” Sophie cried. “I don’t like Chip! He’s weird.”

She was in full Rainbow Glitterson mode.

We took lots of pictures of her having tea over her dead body. I had bought a special cupcake to use as a prop. The cupcake was beautiful, piled high with white frosting and topped with a pink frosting rosebud.

“Now take a bite of the cupcake,” Kris instructed.

“No, I don’t like cupcakes!” Ms. Glitterson protested.

“Well, pretend to take a bite then,” Kris said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t like cupcakes. . . . What the . . . ?”

Next Ms. Glitterson strolled in the meadow garden, under a pink silk parasol. It was hard to get any good shots. Ms. Glitterson was being plagued by gnats. She kept jumping and grimacing. “It’s sticky!” she cried. “I’m hot!”

We tortured Ms. Glitterson with a few more shots. And then we gave up and went inside, into the air conditioning. We drank ice-cold Cokes and sat around playing Clue in the lamplight. I have a little round oak table in “the library” that makes the most perfect, comfortable game table.

Sophie was Miss Scarlet, of course.

“It’s Miss Scarlet with the candlestick in the kitchen. . . .” Rob guessed.

“Stop accusing me!” Sophie/Miss Scarlet cried.

“Then stop being guilty,” Rob said.

Ms. Glitterson strolling the meadow garden. Photo by Kris Kimel Photography


Rainbow Glitterson, international superstar. Photo by Kris Kimel Photography