Dagger eyes

My wonderful friend Christine, who is a painter, is also a wonderful writer. In a recent entry on her blog, she describes the scene at a relative's wedding:

The bar opened, and the bucks gathered around. A tier of slender young ladies swished and giggled in bright strapless gowns, click-clicking in impossible heels. The children bunny-hopped across the perfect lawn, while the aging Dominant Family, calcified in their dysfunction, counted one another's cocktails with dagger eyes.

She has a novel she's been working on -- one and off, mostly off -- for the last, um, let's say decade. I would do almost anything to see it finished one day, but she's pretty busy with activism in addition to her art. At least I get to read her blog.