Thursday, April 17, 2008
All That AND The Proverbial Bag Of Chips
So, we had a visitor last night, a visitor by the name of Georgia who runs a little famous blog by the name of iambossy.com. (If you haven't heard of her, you probably read this as a kind personal favor to me, and you should check out her amazing Family Tree archives. Trust me: she actually makes genealogy sound FUN.)
When she arrived after a long drive from Seattle, I was at the grocery store buying supplies, and by supplies I mean wine, cheese, fresh flowers, and a nice, new pillow because, after all that driving, I really wanted her to have a pillow that didn't smell like someone else's scalp. (We were due for a couple new pillows anyway. You saw the Oprah show on this issue, right? With the two-year-old pillows and 10% of their weight being from dust mites and dust mite waste? I don't even watch Oprah anymore, but her infotainment/fear-mongering touches me still. Thanks, O.)
So, Byron was home alone with the kids when Georgia arrived and the children proceeded to jabber at and physically accost her. It probably looked something like this:
And, sadly, there was probably some of this:
And by the time I returned, Ellie was dragging every stuffed elephant in her menagerie out to the living room, waggling it in front of Georgia's face, and spouting off all their names: "This is Horton. Aaaand this is Dumbo. Aaaand this is Baby Dumbo. Aaaand this is Saggy Baggy. Aaaand this is Queedkekslctw..."
Georgia was very kind, very patient, and completely lovely. I didn't have much in the way of expectations and, honestly, felt a little weird about the situation as an extension of sometimes feeling weird about my blog. But the conversation was easy and natural and engaging and warm, and I can't say enough about Georgia and her Big Idea and her inspiring ability to put complete trust in the kindness of (near) strangers.
We went out, shared some wine, some Big Salads, drove around the teeming metropolis of Boise, purchased saline solution. And the whole thing really renewed my enthusiasm for writing and blogging and connecting to this vast community of good, human people.
And then we said goodnight and, in the wee small hours of the morning, she crept out like a cat burglar, leaving nary a trace behind, save for this:
She's a mensch, that one.