Free Puppet Wrangler by Vicki Grant Page B

on dye jobs and facials and other things I don’t even like to think about. The customers were beginning to stare, so the head guy promised to squeeze me in for a cut and blow-dry. I was sort of embarrassed about it, but when the poor little receptionist scurried off to see who could “do” me, Kathleen turned around and winked at me like “We did it, kid!” or “You and me, baby, all the way!” Something like that. I can’t describe it exactly, but it was definitely a “we’re buddies” type of thing to do.
    We were both pretty tired when we got home, so we just flaked out in front of the TV. I was worried Kathleen was going to make me watch one of those old-fashioned shows about lords and ladies where they laugh at things that aren’t funny and talk about things you don’t understand. You know, your typical grown-up’s idea of a good show. Something you could almost imagine my mother approving of.
    Something even I wouldn’t want to watch.
    So was I ever relieved when she said, “Why don’t we make a big bowl of popcorn and watch the Home Design Channel?”
    The popcorn was pathetic—Kathleen doesn’t take butter or salt—but everything else was perfect. It turned out we both loved decorating shows. And we both loved the really bad ones as much as the really good ones. (The bad ones are way funnier.)
    We talked and talked and talked and I wasn’t shy at all.
    I didn’t always agree with her at first. Kathleen likes her rooms like she likes her popcorn.
    Plain.
    Or, as she’d say, “Simple, but elegant.” (I’m the type that goes for the butter, the salt and the dill pickle flavoring. If I’d been rich and the type of person who liked other people to look at me, I’d have gone for a house with the works too.)
    The more Kathleen talked, though, the more I started to understand what she meant. I actually began to see why those pouffy curtains were a big mistake. Or why that lady was smart to knock the wall out between her kitchen and her dining room. Or how a simple, deep grey velvet would have looked so much more sophisticated than that busy flowered fabric. I started to get really excited about how I could decorate under my bed, especially when that show came on about “Making the most of low ceilings.”
    I got so excited I almost told Kathleen about Dreemland. I said, “You know, I…” She turned and looked at me like she was really interested in what I was going to say. That’s when I knew I had to change the subject. I didn’t want to ruin everything by being weird. Telling her I liked lying under my bed. Making it like my own little house. What was she going to say to that? I don’t know—but I knew what she’d be thinking: Get this kid out of here.
    Kathleen kept looking at me with her eyebrows way up, so I had to think of something to say.
    Brain panic.
    Finally I said, “I…I think you should produce a decorating show. You’d be good at it.”
    I love it when things like that happen. When you just accidentally say the right thing. Kathleen’s face got all happy.
    That’s exactly what she’d always wanted to do! she said.
    Bitsie ’n’ Bytesie just kind of fell into her lap, but she never really wanted to do kids’ TV. She doesn’t really understand children. 35
    Home design she understood. That’s where her heart was, 36 she said. She was really working hard trying to come up with an idea for a series. The problem was “the market was flooded.” There were so many home decorating shows already on the air. Kathleen needed to come up with one that was different, something with an “angle,” a “hook” that the broadcaster would go for. You can have the world’s greatest idea for a show, but if one of the channels won’t pick it up, it’s not worth much. Etc. Etc. Etc.
    She was really