October 29th, 1990
Fresh from SFO, Frankie’s in the house! We talked nonstop for a couple of hours before she crashed, which, after a lengthy night flight is understandable.
I woke Frankie at five and she took her time surfacing but once she did, it was all systems go, starting with the Champagne she gave me as a housewarming gift.
“She drives me crazy,” she sang, dancing around the living room “Oooohhhh oohhhhh, can you turn it up? And what are you wearing tonight?”
“I’m not sure but it won’t be as elaborate and fancy as that,” I said, motioning to Frankie’s partially beaded dress, strewn across the couch.
“You’re so good at that,” I said, marveling at the ease with which Frankie applied her eyeshadow.
“So are you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I only use make-up because we have to for work. Will you do mine?”
“I’ll do a little but you don’t need much, you have a lovely tan.”
“This,” I said, looking at my arm. “This isn’t from the trip I just did, this is from…” I paused. “Shit I don’t even remember where I’ve been recently!”
Frankie cracked up laughing. “Can you imagine going to Hong Kong or New York for like the four hundredth time when we’re ancient, like say, forty?”
“I don’t plan on flying when I’m forty! I think somewhere around thirty will be my limit. If not sooner.”
“No way,” she said. “We’ll be trolley dolly’s ‘til the end of time!”