Virtually all the loonies with whom I have lunched [1] get to the rendezvous as a result of a series of correspondences or communications with me during which a mutually agreeable time and place is chosen.
There is one notable exception… Elaine.
Elaine and I seem to appear together through some sort of kharma or alignment of the stars. No planning is involved or even required. We just show up and there we are.
Serendipitous, I think one would have to call our impromptu run-ins.
(But who is the stalker and who is the stalkee?)
Stalking others may call it. Either way, we just happen upon each other with an alarming frequency.
Example 1: After a morning of defending the downtrodden and rescuing damsels in distress, I retire to some local café or other to sit down, decompress and otherwise enjoy some quality time with myself. Chances are that within 15 to 20 minutes, Elaine will arrive, see me ensconced at my usual spot and plonk herself down at my table with a surprised smile and a “fancy meeting you here” on her lips.
Example 2: Court is over, an errand or two have been taken care of and I decide to have a tea or a Diet Coke at some local café or other. I walk in and who should be there but Elaine. “It’s about time you showed up!” she says. “I have to leave for work in half an hour!”
Elaine is a hoot. She is also one of our local librarians. She is also a Presbyterian minister. Each of these can be a positive and even desirable trait in many a person. Elaine seems to have captured a personality trifecta or hat-trick of sorts.
But, like the yin and yang symbol, Elaine has a dark and sinister side. Yes, even this genial, smiling, kindhearted woman has evil lurking in her heart.
Elaine is what I call a ‘knit-wit.’
Allow me to elucidate. To some people, knitting is merely a pleasurable pass-time. To others, it is a practical hobby… something by which to while away the hours and end up with a scarf or some socks at the end. With Elaine, knitting is something altogether different. A consuming passion, an obsession, a driving force in her life. Her idea of a good time is driving for 90 minutes to Toronto to look at yarn. [2]
(Zombie sock yarn)
At lunch, she will pull out a freshly-knit pair of socks and breathlessly ask, “Aren’t these GREAT??” She’ll describe in surprising detail where and how she picked out the yarn, what pattern she chose and why, the number of knitting needles used, the various problems she ran into and challenges she had to overcome to produce these incredibly fantastic, amazing, magnificent socks!
“Yes. They’re lovely. Really!” I reply with bound enthusiasm.
She can sometimes tell when I am not as ‘into’ the knitting thing as I ought to be. My muted response occasionally tips her off.
“Oh, what do you know?” she says, dismissing me out of hand.
Another thing about Elaine… her fixation on Barbie.
Yes, THE Barbie. The Mattel doll loved by little girls since she first strutted into the national consciousness in the late 50s. For a while, Elaine carried a Barbie doll or two in her shoulder bag. She was knitting a series of outfits for the leggy gal pal and was always displaying the latest in the series of teeny haute couture. In fact, these dolls were so much a fixture of our lunches that we started referring to them (collectively and interchangeably) as Café Barbie.
The ‘Barbie Phase’ culminated in an all-out Barbie Photo Shoot at Elaine’s house with me as costume crew and general stage hand and Elaine’s husband acting as stage manager and lighting designer/key grip. You had to be there. It took hours but in the end, Elaine had a digital camera filled with images of her Barbie line of designer fashion outfits which she gleefully shared on her Facebook page. Needless to say, Ed and I were whelmed.
Despite these eccentricities (some may call them character flaws), Elaine remains chipper, effervescent, even bubbly. Her laugh is infectious. Her cheerfulness is almost tangible. She is quick with a corny joke and proficient at the pun. She is gentle and kind and funny as all get out.
(My stalker. Or stalkee)
Just don’t mention ‘knitting’ within earshot. You’ve been warned!
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[1] Just to let you know that I am perfectly aware of the grammatically correct form of this phrase.
[2] What’s wrong with the yarn sold locally? Beats me.
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(Our local courthouse – Damsel in Distress central!)
(At my ‘office’: BD – pouting somewhat, and JT – somewhat content)
(BD perks up after learning she’ll not be at one of Her Majesty’s guest houses)
(Tom and I a few years ago at my ‘office’ at the café)
