Katie makes a nemesis.

Like the totally self-absorbed jerk that I am, this is how I introduced myself to our church secretary.

ME: Is Paul around?
CAROL (in all capital letters): WHO???
ME (spooked and speaking in all lower-case letters): i mean -- pastor...

Much, much later, my mentor, who incidentally shares my habit of using our pastor's first name in direct address as well as third party conversation, tried to reassure me by convincing me I never had a chance in the first place. (Odd choice, that.) In his view, our dear secretary only really puts up with people who have one (or both) of two qualities: (a) they're of blood-relation to her, or (b) they have a clerical collar. "But if you show up wearing a clerical collar -- yeah. Not gonna help your case."

Thanks. Like I've never heard that one before.

This happened some time ago, and in the mean time I've made several forays toward thinning the ice. There was the day I made no noise. There was the day I earnestly solicited her sage advice on a variety of things I needed to do. I had the most hope for the day I played a sort of look-at-my-bicycle enthusiasm. But of course it was only on Carol's terms that we would finally become friends: she wandered into the office toward noon on a Friday and announced to all of us (save the pastor, and I'm not telling him) that she would have been on time but she found upon waking that she lacked clean under-donks and had to stay home a while doing laundry.

"Under-donks?" I mouthed to the fourth grade teacher, as in, Did I really just hear her say... The teacher nodded, eyebrows raised.

Yeah, and now we're cool. Figure that one out.