Character Profile

The Truman Show. Remember that movie? What an intriguing idea. Ever feel like you are Truman? Like your whole life is a TV show and there are millions of people watching you on their television sets at home? I feel like that all the time! Not in a selfish- everyone should be watching me because I'm so worth watching- kind of way. More so in a- did that really just happen, surely someone is filming this- kind of way.
So, throughout the film that is my life, I meet many characters. Some are extras, put there to fill time and screen space. Others play much more important roles, altering the course of my life even. And then there are those few that are cast simply to shake things up, to provide funny and interesting spice to my life. Characters like "Old Lady Witherspoon" as my brother and I came to call her. We met Old lady Witherspoon on a fishing peer in Navarre Beach, Florida. She had a mystical connection with a blind catfish. I met another of these characters today.
The setting for today's scene is the dog park at Kiesel. I take Jenny there at least twice a week, weather permitting. I wasn't feeling too well, but decided to go anyway. When we got there, I let Jenny loose and sat down next to a woman on a bench. Allow me to paint a picture of her appearance. She had long gray hair, a crochet rose in her hair, huge sunglasses, a baby-blue t-shirt with wolves on it, tight dark-blue jeans, a fanny-pack-ultimate with two (2) drink holders, black socks with kitty cat argyle, and dirty white tennis shoes. If this woman is a character in the TV show of my life, here are several of her lines (un-edited, actual things she said):

To her dog: "hey little bug, little bug.... little bug. You through with play? Through with play? Wanna go walk? walk? wanna go walk? little bug, little bug. bug. little bug."
"Did you get sand in your lungs? Did you eat some of that dirt?"
"Did you slime yourself? or did someone else slime you?"

Me: "What's your dog's name?"

Her: "Riku. it's the name of a character from Final Fantasy. I also call her termite."

Me: "..... does she... eat wood?"

Her: "wood, paper, cardboard, carpet, walls, chairs... everything but lemons!"

Me attempting a joke: "You ought to call her garbage-disposal"

Her: silence.

I sat and wondered what a day in her shoes would be like. How many times would I say little bug? What would I put in my fanny-pack ultimate? How many hours would I spend playing Final Fantasy?

I never got her name. So for now, I'll call her Mira G. Butterfield. Thanks Mira, for enriching my life. Say hello to termite for me, once would be fine.