Meet the Gypsy

Our parents were friends first, so we had very little choice in the matter. Perfectly positioned between Stearns and I in age, Gypsy is one of the few people who can stand Stearns and I together for long periods of times (this is a result of years of practice). When Gypsy comes over (every night we're all home) to chez Leopard late at night for some matchmaking lists (one of our first and favorite past times), cookie dough, and a sleepover, we laugh so hard that sometimes we can't move. I particularly remember the night we twirled around late at night (in the rain?) in the curtains from Gypsy's room and ended on the floor of her room in tears (good tears). And the dance group we started that met after church in the mezzanine (you Catholics really missed out--I bet you didn't have mezzanines!). And the brunch on the porch in which we dressed up like Southern belles when we were long past the age when that was a legitimate activity, purportedly for Ilana's pleasure, but clearly more for our own.

Her name comes from the day that Stearns, Gypsy and I dressed up like matching gypsies with all of the jewelry we owned around our necks, beauty spots markered all over our faces, and bandannas on our heads. We then stood by the road for the entire afternoon and counted how many beeps we could get from each car.