I was at a garden party up north in early September and it was, frighteningly, all women.

Large groups of women can be a good thing, a really good thing. Or a bad and scary thing.

It was a beautiful early evening and the sun was  still bright and strong. I was standing with an old friend when a new one came up to introduce herself. She was practically in a spotlight of sunshine.

She was friendly and well oiled, with her wine goblet  acting like a microphone she was speaking into, pretty much non stop.

She had some stripes on her nose and I could not figure out why. As she went on to talk, I found myself mesmerized by these lines. I even started counting them.

Then it hit me. Every time she took a gulp of wine, her lipstick on the rim of her glass created another line farther up on her nose as the glass emptied.

Suddenly I felt like I was at target practice.

I did not hear a word she said.

But I could hear my dad loud and clear

Easy on the warpaint, girls.