Not about me! About Cathy.
Hi Cathy, what's up, could you be cuter? I just want to carry you around with me and prop you up and make you say funny stuff that makes us giggle. And then I'll get a perm so I can have hair like you.
But seriously, Cathy needs to be like a mayor or something. Of somewhere. I don't know where. Not in Alaska. Maybe New York or San Francisco. This article just came out in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle about Cathy and the work she does and I'm so dang proud of her.
When I met Cathy, she worked at a credit union on the corner of my street in the East Village. We first said hello to each other on a subway platform where we agreed to meet after Jane told us to be friends and then we went to an art museum. At the museum we developed girl-crushes and sat and jabbered endlessly in the middle of the galleries because we liked each other too much to look at art.
I didn't really understand Cathy's job, all I knew was that her credit union did taxes free for neighborhood residents and I was cashing in on that. One of her colleagues did my paperwork and then looked up to ask, "You really only made a total of THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS last year in Seattle?"
"I worked a lot under the table," I bit my lip and mumbled.
Since then Cathy has worked for different business improvement districts and neighborhood development organizations, moving up and becoming more and more influential and basically kicking a serious amount of ass. Plus she honestly cares. And finished an entire arm of tattoos last week.
That also makes us laugh: I do this potentially punk rock job but have a really nerdy approach and she does this potentially nerdy job but has a really punk rock approach. Yin and yang, baby. Muah. x
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