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.

Big Sticky Tootsie Pop Hug

I am a Tootsie Pop. A hard outer shell, with a soft and gooey center. My kids know this, so they have learned just how to patiently lick away until my gooey-ness is exposed. Sometimes, people with especially sharp teeth can just plow right into that gooey part without warning. I don't like that as much. But sometimes when the moon is right or if I've been listening to a lot of REM, I crack open that outer shell and give folks a view of the soft stuff. Really, and shhh! this is a secret, I'm mostly soft stuff.

I have spent the day getting ready to take my monkeys on a trip for a little breaking of spring, and to my delight, a large part of this day has been spent in communication with various stranger-friends who for no other reason in the world except that they're nice, have volunteered to guest post for me while I'm away. This is the sort of thing that reassures me about the future of the human race. Overly dramatic? Perhaps. Perhaps not, though. I was going to say that it's not like we're changing the world here. But maybe we are?

Technology and the internet and blogs and social networking all have their damaging effects on the world in one way or another. In the wrong hands, they can be used to tear down, to divide, to isolate, to disengage. I'm a hands-on kind of girl, so I prefer my life to be in 3D for the most part. But I also believe in the power of the written word. These words that we all work so hard to get down on the screen every day - most of us for no tangible compensation - these words matter. Sometimes they're silly, sometimes they're terse and driven by exhaustion, sometimes they're angry or moving or profound or misspelled or nonsensical. But always they matter. They matter to the lives that they touch, they matter as the tiny threads that weave people closer together, they matter because they're yours.

Six months ago I got my first actual reader on this blog. It was a thrill and a rush to know that some stranger out there read something I wrote and responded to it. To my amazement, some people responded again and again, and brought other people to respond as well. And now I have this little crowd of stranger-friends who inspire me daily, encourage me both directly and indirectly through their words, their tenacity and their dedication. That's you. All of you. You have changed my world.

So as I sit here, sleepy and satisfied, I want to say thank you. To all of you. Even if this is the first time you've ever read this blog, thank you. Thank you for having the courage to say things out loud, to follow your dreams, to think, to reason, to write, and to share. It's people like you who do change the world. Each time one of you reaches out to another person with a comment, an encouragement, a note, a laugh, or any of the other many things you do, you are making this world a better place to be. So thank you, from the bottom of my great big, gooey heart. Thank you.

This Is How We Do It

Last week I posed a question: How Do You Do That Thing We Do?
How do you write? From whence comes your inspiration? How does the process work for you?
There were a lot of answers. A lot of them were similar: a lot of people just seem to sit and write, then edit what comes out when they're done. A lot of people get sudden flashes of inspiration at the most inconvenient times. For some it is a necessity, a drive. Some of us couldn't explain, exactly. It generated so much fascinating discussion - read the comments on that post! So much good information there. It generated a few posts, too. And that, my friends, is the beauty of blogging. People in their living rooms, kitchens, offices, pajamas, all across the world can sit and chat together instantaneously about the things they love. For your reading and writing pleasure, I've assembled the posts (that I was aware of) here. Please, it is not my intention to leave anyone out, so if I've missed you or someone you know, let me know!

Masked Mom wrote three! Two are full of good information about getting an essay ready for submission and waiting on the answer. One is about her process - or as much as she can tell us about it anyway. AND she has a hat.

Tara at Faith In Ambiguity talks about being alive while she writes. About editing, about telling the muse to wait. About finding exactly the right words.

Dawn at Alphabet Salad surprises herself where she ends up. She also edits as she goes along and then tweaks, tweaks, tweaks until it's perfect.

JT at In Search of a Title talks about the different kinds of writing she does in her life - for work, for pleasure, for herself, for others and how they differ. She prefers to write essays over fiction and to find exactly the right word to express herself.

M at the M-Half of the M & J Show prompted even more discussion in her post about writing vs. blogging.

And! The fashionably late Jane In Her Infinite Wisdom talks about the most key ingredient for writing - courage.

Jewels at Frazzled & Frumpy is in the process of shopping a novel. I have read part of it and I think it's going to go places. She shares some what she's learned here.

Are there more? Link them here in the comments. And a great big thank you for such interesting discussion and input. Having all you people around every day keeps me writing when the muse is stamping his tattooed foot and saying "IDONWANNA!" and chucking great big cinder blocks in my stream of consciousness.

Also, speaking of blog friends, the lovely Deb over at Kicking Corners is a busy lady making this writing dream come true, so she asked me to guest post today. Go check it out - not for my nonsense, but for her gorgeous blog.

Sweet, Sweet Love

There are not enough ways to say thank you in pixels and fonts on a screen. In person I do things like send cards, bake cakes or muffins, knit or crochet small items and give big teary hugs to say thank you. There are not enough ways to say it, but I will say it again: Thank you. All of you. I cannot even begin to explain the metamorphosis that is taking place with me, nurtured in large part by this whole merry band of folks who read my ramblings and listen. Really listen, and reflect and discuss and share. It is the hem of a brocade dream that I've grasped with my little sweaty typing hands that is still unfolding before me. Thank you.

I can probably count on one hand the number of times I can remember being called "sweet" in my life. It's not an adjective often springs to mind in relation to me. It is one that instantly makes me think of Word Nerd, though. She's one of the most generous bloggers I've seen. She spends so much of her precious blogging time encouraging others that I am in awe of how she does it and still manages to write her wonderful blog. She has been kind enough to include me in her list of "Irresistibly Sweet Bloggers". I am touched, and I am grateful.

In order to accept this award, I must first divulge seven bits of information about myself. Then I will pass it on to some other deserving bloggers that I like. I honestly thought I would never be awarded one of these lovely awards again after this post, wherein I told 7 outright lies about myself. I promise I won't do that this time. So, um, 7 things:

1. I was never allowed to act like a spoiled child when I was a child, I had to wait until I was an adult to indulge in that. I still just save it for special occasions.
2. If I had not just eaten a very large cheeseburger with blue cheese, I would probably bury my face in the cake pictured above.
3. I once worked in restaurant where hollering "Yee-haw!" at specified times was required of the service staff. I vacillated between running and hiding somewhere when it was time to shout and bellowing it at the top of my (considerably resonant) lungs no matter where I was. That startles people in the restroom.
4. I don't like spanikopita.
5. One time I drove into the hole in the floor at JiffyLube. I have no idea how the car got out of the hole because the attendant stuck her face in my window and said "Just. Get. Out." through clenched teeth, so I went into the waiting room and drank bad coffee and tried to look like nothing happened until they were done.
6. I once threw my sister's shoes out of the window of a moving car because they smelled so bad. I still feel bad about littering like that. It was the early 90s, though, so I don't think people cared that much back then.
7. I am uselessly ambidextrous. I am predominately right handed, but I can write backwards with my left hand. If I ever find myself in a situation where I will have to send mirror messages, I will be all set.

Now for the good part. First off, check  here and here and here for some other bloggers that I love. If you don't see your name on the list, it's not that I don't love you, it's that I ran out of room and also we all kind of read each other or have received these types of awards before and I wanted to inject some fresh blood into the mix. But of course, I adore you all. So if you're reading this, give yourself a Hallmarkchocolatecakecrochetedmittensgianttearyhug from me. Also, check these folks out:


Vesuvius At Home
Faith In Ambiguity
The (not always) Lazy W
My Worlds My Words My Worries
Alphabet Salad
Mark's Work
In Search of a Title
When Cows Cry
The Mommy Rant
Corner Blog
Closed Captioned For The Thinking Impaired
Much Needed Advice

It's a cornucopia of styles, methods, messages there. Enjoy and share the sweet, sweet love.