Two nights in a row, Alice has insisted on going to bed with a cocktail umbrella in her hand.
Oh, hold on, that's not what this post is about.
Two weeks ago, I had a visitor. A blog friend visitor. Her name is Dera. You should be reading her blog.
She is a hoot and she's smart and she has great taste and she lives many states away. She is... a blog friend. And she visited me, like at my house, in real life.
I've been waiting to blog about this because, oh I don't know, you know how when you were young and you thought a boy liked you but you couldn't admit to liking him until you knew what he said about you to his friends first, or something like that? I think I felt like that. Except about blogging. And a blogger. I was selfishly hoping she'd blog about meeting me first, so I wouldn't feel dumb. But I am grown-up lady and not a little girl and I'm going to go ahead and put this out there:
I loved her. I knew I would love her, at least I was SURE I would, as sure as you can be when you've never met someone in person. Yet still, I had a tiny panic attack when her car pulled in the driveway. What if things were just different in real life? What if she thought I was lame? I barely had time to worry these worries before she jumped out of the car and ran inside, full of normalness and excitement. She felt like a friend, like a friend I already knew. She sat in my living room and we talked and she hugged me and her husband joked around and asked me about my Fornasetti plates and her babies played house with my babies and they were only here for a few hours, but I have to think that this little thing we do on the internet where we write silly stories and decorate a space and tell the world who we are can be more than words and pictures. It can bring people together. People who would never have the chance to be friends or know each other, otherwise.
I love that. And I love Dera. You should be reading her blog.