I can write whatever I want about some people I have known. They have made it very clear that they will never read my blog. The comments range from "what is a blog?" to "I don't have time for that." It's OK. I'm not offended. I'm sure they're very busy going for manicures, blowing out their hair, or reading the Cliff Notes for their latest book club assignment.
One of these people has been trying to be part of the "A" crowd her whole life. Never much of a student, she managed to graduate from high school, attend a junior college, and study fashion design and decorating.
We were talking one day and I mentioned that I was battling with the squirrels. "I have a plastic tablecloth, out back, underneath some of my plants and the squirrels thought the tablecloth was hiding food. The pests were scratching at the tablecloth and tearing it. "Good for them," she said. "I don't like plastic cloths. They're just awful and in such poor taste." "Good thing you're not here," I said.
She moved to "the Cape" from Long Island and built her house. But before the construction started, she visited several builders, "to pick their brains." She finally decided on plans that she "borrowed" from an architect. She wanted her house to look like a million dollar house but actually cost a lot less.
She always kept up with the fashions of the "A" crowd. After all, that was "her thing." She even came right out and told me that I didn't know what the current fashions were. A lot she knows.
But I think the biggest hurt came after I wrote, copyrighted, and published my crime novels that take place in Hawaii. I sent her one. she asked "would you sign them for my children? How much are they?" I told her, my cost. She said, "I never pay that much for a paperback book." This from the A-list wannabe who lives in a million dollar house and has known me forever.
We replaced the TV in our bedroom with a thinner, larger screen set. What to do with the old one? I asked a neighbor if she would like it. "How much?" she saked. "Nothing. I want to give it to you." "Sure." So, I brought it over and she said thanks.
A few days later, she had occasion to drop in on some pretence, and saw the larger TV we have in our living room. "And you gave me such a little one," she said.
I admit. I was flushtered. What I should have said was, "I'll take it back if you don't want it." But, never again will I give her anything. I would rather pay to have the trashmen take it away, than give it to her.