Mike, a friend of mine offered to pick me up – we were going to the same meeting. He arrived in his two-door car. In the front seat was his wife Mary. Another woman I did not know, was seated in the back. Mary got out of the car to allow me to get in but Marcia, the other woman, did not move. "I'm already strapped in," she said to the dome light, "you'll have to climb over me."

We were introduced, during which time she never made eye contact. Marcia is tall, thin with a harsh face. Angry comes to mind as the most descriptive adjective. I spoke mostly to my friends in the front seat on the short trip. We talked about the dead plants along the main road and I said, "I suggested we plant kinnikinnick [a native plant]." This got her attention. "Oh," she shouted, "I hate kinnikinnick. We should plant lavender." And proceeded to lecture the back of the seat in front of her on lavender's merits and beauty.

After the meeting, we met with the landscaping people and Marcia suddenly came to life. She accentuated her words with sweeping arm gestures. She strode back and forth with lifted knees always maintaining close proximity with George, who works for the Landscaping company. She was performing a mating dance! She spoke animatedly with many gestures about gardening and lavender and finding corn gluten. At a lull in an otherwise monopolized conversation, I asked Marcia to tell me about corn gluten. Another person in the group asked "where do you buy it?" She ignored us. Only one person was worthy of her attention.

As soon as she was out of George's earshot, she gushed, "Is he was married?" Learning that he was, the stony visage returned. Getting back to the car, I clasped her eyes firmly with mine, saying, "Why don't you get in first, I'll be the first to get out." She hesitated, glared at me, curled her lip but clambered in and turned her face away from me the entire (blessedly short) ride home.

Marcia wondered out loud what one of the Board members does, besides sitting around looking bored. (Mike and I, both Board members, ignored this remark.) As we approached the community where they all live Mike mentioned that Marcia was a Master Gardener and that her house was the one with all the roses. I said, "I was also a master gardener but gave it up when I moved to Kent, since the office was miles away as was the Demo Garden."

"You have to be a Doer," Marcia sneered into the window opposite me, "I do lots of volunteer work." Ignoring her lack of eye contact, I continued, "When I was in the Pierce County branch, I did it all, office work, clinics. And the County newsletter."

No response. When we arrived at my getting out point, Mike said, "I'll show you where Marcia lives." I got out, glanced toward her roses and said, "They're beautiful!"

As I turned to continue on my way home, Mike said, "Don't you want to inspect her flowers?" "I've got to be going," I replied.