My Girl T
--Peg Kraft
<<<<<>>>>>
“Seriously, Monday would be great.
My life is in turmoil right now and if you come over Monday
you can hear all about it--
and I can hate you for being happy.”
<<<<<>>>>>
My girl T called me last week.
“Why do you call her T?” you ask.
Her name is Theresa but whenever she left notes for me at Curves -- where we both worked (and she still does)-- she always signed them with just a great flourish of a T. To me she was just T.
My phone vibrated and I picked it up and looked at the caller ID. “Hi T!” I answered brightly.
“Hi Peg! Hey, listen, the reason I’m calling is because Linda’s here to do a workout and we were just wondering what you have been up to,” she said.
Linda is like my best girlfriend in the whole wide world (if you don’t count family) and is a business owner here on the Strip in Lake Ozark, Missouri.
“What business?” you may wonder.
She and her husband Gene have Bob’s Sunglasses.
“Linda? Gene? Who’s Bob then?”
Bob is Linda’s daddy. He started the business in 1980 but has since gone on home to be with our Lord.
“T, I am so busy, I don’t know how I ever found time to work!” I told her. “I’ve been making dishrags and scrubbies and tee shirt rugs for pets. Cats just love these rugs!” In my mind's eye I could see our old cat Missy dragging one across the living room floor in much the same way a lioness will carry off her kill.
“My kids have a cat… could you show me how to make them?”
“Sure, just call me and we’ll get together.”
Later that week, T calls me. Guess when?
“At the most inopportune time?” you guess.
Yes. I was feeling stressed and bitchy when she called.
“Hi Peg! Do you want to get together Monday?” she asked.
I was in the middle of mopping my floor. It would be clean now, who knew what it would look like come Monday. “This afternoon would be better for me.”
T couldn’t come that afternoon and I’m afraid I wasn’t very nice to her. “I'm running errands right now, can I just call you on Monday?” she asked.
“You can call but I don’t know if I’ll be available or not.”
“Okay then,” she signed off cheerfully, “talk-to-you-later-bye.” And she was gone. My bitchiness didn’t seem to affect her one bit. She hung up sounding as sing-songy and happy as she was when she first said, “Hi Peg!”
I was ashamed and I went back to my mopping.
I reminded myself of the Wicked Witch of the West.
I mopped a little harder.
I was sorry.
I mopped harder still.
Soon my mopping slowed and stopped as I knew what I had to do. I propped the mop against the table and reached for my phone. I called T back. No answer. I wasn’t entirely surprised. I left my apology on her voicemail then I went back to mopping.
She was just doing what any normal, polite human being
would do! Me admonished Myself and I mopped a little harder. She was
just trying to make an appointment with you and not show up on short
notice- like you do! And I mopped harder still.
Me wasn’t making Myself
feel any better but my floor sure was getting a good scrubbing!
And you were mean to her for that?
All right already! I apologized! What more do you want me
to do!
Tell her Monday’s fine… like any normal, polite human being
would do! Like you should have done in
the first place!
I knew Me was right. Don’t
you just love these internal conversations we have with ourselves?
I propped the mop up again and for a third time I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket. I didn’t think T would answer if I tried to call again so I texted instead.
“Seriously, Monday would be great. My life is in turmoil right now and if you come over Monday you can hear all about it and I can hate you for being happy.”
I felt better as I finished the job and went about putting the cleaning supplies away. It wasn't long until my phone vibrated in my pocket notifying me I'd gotten a text. “See you Monday,” T replied.
Monday arrives and my floor doesn’t look half bad. T called me in the morning with an approximate time of when she would be here and I busied myself tidying up the house. When she arrives we exchange greetings as I lead her into the kitchen and we sit at the table. "Here's the one I just finished," I said as I handed it to T. This rug is fifteen inches by eleven inches - or there abouts, and I haven’t figured out how to change colors very neatly yet, but hey, practice makes perfect, right?- and the critters don't care!
“These are pretty enough to sell,” T said.
“Thank you, and they are pre-loved too,” I said thinking of Baby Blue.
Baby Blue thinks every thing new in the house is hers. After a thorough inspection she will usually end up laying on whatever it is. It could be something as silly as papers I dropped in a pile on the floor while cleaning off my desk. Or the boxes I set out while packing.
Or even a basket of freshly laundered clothes. Anything that appears where it wasn’t before she will fully inspect; walk around, smell, taste, rub against, lay on. I've never thought too much about it because cats all have their own personalities and it's just something Baby Blue has always done.
The other day I’m watching her rub against the table leg
then she goes over to the stove, rubs her face against the corner of it,
continues on around and stops just as her ass comes in line with it. Her tail
twitches. That little stinker! I
think to myself. Is she marking it? It isn’t the first time nor the
first place I’ve ever seen her tail twitch when she was backed up to something
and despite some gentle persuasion with my foot every time I catch her, she
keeps doing it. Why does she do that!
I've frustratingly wondered more
than once and I'm not even sure I was thinking that this particular time, nonetheless,
it hits me.
That's how she knows where things
are!
None of our other cats do this and I'm guessing that since Baby Blue is mostly blind, it's her way of keeping track of where things are. Cats have scent glands on their front side as well as their backside and she probably has to re-mark from time to time.
More than you wanted to know, I'm sure, and definitely way off the subject.
I showed T how to fold and cut a tee shirt and turn it into yarn but I bet she won't remember how it's done when she gets around to sitting down and doing it.
I didn't remember how to do it from seeing the You Tube video one time then a week later sitting down to try it. I had to find the video online and watch it a couple of more times.
"T, if you forget how it's done, just Google it," I told her but knowing T has problems with her memory, she probably won't even remember to do that. I should call her one of these days and see how she's getting along with it.
Our conversation moved on to some of the other projects I was working on and we landed on my story making. "I have extra copies of some of my stories, would you like to have them?" I asked T.
"Yeah," she said, "I can read them at work."
"Maybe you could leave them for Mary Ellen to read too?" I suggested.
"I can do that," she replied.
I dug out copies of The Great Heron Debate, Josh and Myra, Andrew's First Photography Lesson and Jasmine's Story (which I had just completed) and gave them to her. T had to get back to work and we never had a chance to talk about the tumultuous events happening in my life right now.
I never expected to hear anything more. In fact, I haven't heard from T since then but the next day I was surprised to get the nicest note from my old ex-boss, Mary Ellen.
"Thank you so much for dropping off your 'stories'. Theresa left them for me and I read them this morning. They are wonderful stories and I felt like I was right there with you....Your Andrew is such a special gift and a really super 'kid', he doesn’t even seem like a toddler, he is so grown up and smart. Thank you for thinking of us."
Despite what anyone thinks of Mary Ellen I have always admired and respected her. I value her opinion and I was pleased that she liked my stories.
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