It's funny, this blogging thing. You're going about your merry way blogging anonymously and the next you're swapping emails with another blogger, comparing notes about what part of the state you live in while still being slightly cautious about how much information you're sharing - because let's face it, you never know who is the serial killer and who is someone you wouldn't mind lending a cup of gin to - and coming to the realization that you live really close to each other. So close, in fact, you shop at the same supermarket.
Hell, you've probably brushed shoulders while frantically grabbing at the bags of coffee or chocolate cookies.
So much for anonymity.
And then you arrange to meet this blogger. You worry if they're going to like you and if your shirt has a smear of peanut butter on it, first impressions being so important and all and you're sure the other blogger's kids have never left a smear of peanut butter on their shirt. You meet at a neutral place because, again, hellooo - SERIAL. KILLER. Then, when you've finally done the awkward introductions - "Are you...?", "Yeah, are you...?" [insert awkward laughter and awkward pause in conversation] - you spend the next awkward hour or so spewing awkward nonsense from your yap because, wow, AWKWARD. And before you know it, it's time to leave your neutral meeting place and you drive away wondering if this foot-in-mouth disease you have scared away your new friend because throughout all the awkwardness, you thought the other blogger was way cool.
That was Sarah and me last year. I was the awkward semi-new mother with the two year old trying to figure out what to do with her child, and she was the woman who seemed, on the surface at least, to have it all figured out. Her boys were adorable and sweet, hell she even brought a neighbor's kid with her to that first meeting at a local playground, and she drove a big ass truck that if given the chance I'd probably drive into the nearest wall because I wouldn't know how to handle such an impressive beast.
I liked her immediately.
We've only met one other time since then but we've made lots of promises to get together again, and we will when life slows down again (if you didn't catch that little joke, then you don't read this here blog enough. The poor woman's life is not going to slow down for quite some time). We email and we read each other's blogs and catch up that way. I think she's superwoman and I'm proud to consider her my friend. And I thank God, Allah, Colonel Sanders, or Snuggle the fabric softener bear (You pick your higher power and I'll pick mine) that we both had blogs because without them she just would have been another mother in the supermarket that I would have had to fight for the last box of chocolate cookies.
Tania blogs, sometimes awkwardly, at Chicky Chicky Baby. She has not bumped into Sarah at the supermarket since they've met face to face but she hopes to because at this rate, between their two hectic schedules, that's the only place they're going to see each other again.