I Met Margi

I got my new cowboy boots in the mail today and it reminded me that I have yet to write about meeting Margi.

She was disappointed that I didn't blurt things at her. She should take it as a compliment, though. It means that I wasn't nervous and that I already considered her a friend when we sat down to chat. That's weird, right? I don't know. I'm not a twenty-first century baby. Margi and I talked about this. It's still a little weird for us to say we've made friends online. It's a hangover from the days when the Internet was only used by sweating nerdy folks in their basements - a command center of Radio Shack components teetering on leftover pizza boxes and a tangle of wires. Remember when Internet access was something that involved a series of swapping diskettes in and out and stretching a phone cord across the house? Don't call me. I'm online. You'll only get a busy signal. Whatever. If you don't remember that, it's OK. But that's why it's weird to meet people for the first time that you already kind of know and admit it. I am, in fact, a dirty old man. Everyone knows that. Now Margi has seen for herself. She didn't take a picture, so you will never be quite sure if I'm telling the truth about this.

I met the J-Half, too. He was polite and brief and had some work to do. He was carrying a mysterious black bag with headphones attached to it, so I'm pretty sure he's a spy. Margi told me about what they both do for a living, but I didn't understand. It's all right. I have a hard time explaining my job, too. Have you noticed how a lot of jobs are sort of nebulous? One of my very best friends has been extremely successful at her job for years and continues to get promotions and pay raises and goes on trips and everything. Every time I see her, I ask her what she does. She explains and I listen very carefully and think "This time I will remember." I still have no idea what she does. But sometimes she gets free espresso, so it must be fabulous.

Margi is just like her blog. She is witty, very smart - like, really smart - thoughtful, kind, and entertaining. Here's what you don't get from reading her blog, though: she smells good. I am envious of people who can smell good. Not an overpowering perfume, product-y kind of smell. Just... I don't know. This is getting weird. I don't mean it to be. I smell things, I can't help it. I wonder if she stank, would I have liked her as much? Her smell is irrelevant, really. It just struck me from time to time as we were sitting and talking: "Hey! I'm talking to Margi about things that I've always wanted to ask her about and I can smell her."

We talked about really everything. Politics, religion, kids, husbands, families, writing, grammar, depression, the Puyallup Fair, football, and my new cowboy boots. I didn't censor myself which would explain the lack of blurting. It's usually when I try to edit what I say that the weird things come flying out. I don't think she did, either. She and I come from fundamentally different backgrounds, we hold extremely different beliefs, but not really. This is the exciting part for me: I love talking to intelligent people who think about things instead of just reacting. Margi doesn't react. She listens, she thinks, she speaks with kindness and consideration, even when she disagrees. There should be more Margis. Seriously.

We talked about happiness. We talked about the ability to look around and say "I am truly happy," even when there is a beast of a dark cloud following us around sometimes. That's a valuable skill. We talked about blogging. We discussed why we do it, why we hate it, why we love it. Oddly, a lot of the reasons are the same even though our ultimate goals are very different. We talked about being able to say "I don't care what you think" while at the same time valuing the input of others. Margi likes words as much as I do. We read books and we write and we get ridiculously excited about ideas just for the sake of them.

We talked about so many things I can't remember them all. The time just flew by and all of a sudden I had to run out the door to pick up the monkeys from Running Club. I spent nearly all day talking to Margi and there still was not enough Margi in my day. I like this kind of thing. I like to leave before I'm finished. I like to have so much more to say and ask and hear. I like to miss talking to someone I just met for the first time ever. It is so much better than surreptitiously looking at my pocket watch and suppressing yawns.

Here's the deal: Margi is the genuine article. She's an incredible woman with so much to offer this world. She has a light heart and a deep impact. I never ever ever would have met her if it weren't for this bizarre blogging world. It's weird and it's wonderful and, as I discovered a few weeks ago, some of it is even real. I met Margi. And I'm so glad I did.