A few weeks ago, this message was on my answering machine:
"Hi, Slush. This is Alicia*. I bought your old house on SuchandSuch Street, and I just wanted to talk to you about adoption!"
It was a lovely, cheery message.Ok, so this lady bought the house we just moved out of from the people who bought it from us.
In some (understandable) state of confusion, I called the lady we sold to.
"Hey, Jules*, I was just wondering about this message I got... umm... did we tell you we were thinking about adoption?"We hadn't told our families yet, but hey, maybe we let it slip. It wouldn't be uncharacteristic of us.
Jules started laughing. "No, no, I had to call L and ask him something about the house this morning. I told him the people who bought the house just got back from picking up a child in Russia, and he said you guys were thinking about the whole adoption thing. I hope you didn't mind!"Ahhh... well that's good to know. Our number isn't just floating around on the internet with a note that says 'call Slush, she's thinking about *ahem* adoption...'
Alicia called back tonight to tell me all about her adoption. I am learning that those who have adopted are always ready to share and encourage in any way they can. I suppose it's not strange. Kind of like pregnant women commiserating on heartburn, hemorrhoids, and wiggly, kicking babies who trample on your bladder at 3:30 in the morning.
All that background to get to this part of the story.
Alicia is somehow tied to the Bethany
office in Fayetteville. She says Karen
is really nice.
"Oh yeah," I said, "I am a huge fan of Ellen's!"
"What?" asks Alicia.
"You know, The Reign of Ellen
. She's Karen's sister. She has a wildly popular blog. Karen has a great blog too, you know, it's called Desperately Seeking Sudafed
. Isn't that too funny?"
"Blog? I've heard of those, but I don't really know what they are..."
"Oh, you have to read them. Just do a Google search for Ellen and you'll be able to find it. You can get to Karen's site from Ellen's."
"Yeah, I'll have to do that...." (Alicia's voice is getting distant and sounds as if she is afraid I'm going to start stalking her and her cute little Russian babies).
I can't stop at mild fear. "It's funny. I have no idea what these people are like in real life, and I couldn't pick them out of a lineup, but I just love them. I mean, don't you think that's weird?" I now have verbal diarrhea, unable to stop the flow of congenital stupidity flowing from my lips
. As if that isn't bad enough, I sound a little like a valley girl!
Ok, so maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe it actually was. After all my goofy, 'I'm not crazy' laughing, I really can't remember.
So here's my point (you didn't know this was a post with a point, did you? Oooh, we should start calling those PWAPs. What do you think? I am so trendy, I am even making my own whatever-you-call thems. Short words? Uh huh... we better get back to the point). I hardly have any "real" friends anymore. Most of the people I think are really neat (if I may use so lame a term) are just pages on the internet.
Really, this is very calculating of me. It is much harder to be rejected by a webpage. And if you are, well, it's just a machine- glitch! It's not because you wore that
on your Taco Bueno** date, no way. And girls aren't nearly as catty in blogland as they are at playdates!
The downside, of course, is that non- bloggy people think you are completely insane if you start spouting off in a Slush- like manner. Even people who understand blogs, but aren't really into them, probably think you are a wackjob (I suspect L of being in this category, but he's too afraid to say anything. He's stuck with me now, so he has to try and ignore all the crazy...).
Did I make a point? I think perhaps I digressed. I swear, there was no alcohol ingested before the typing of this post. Some egg nog, yes, but the kind you get at the grocery store, before the spiking occurs. Perhaps I should sum up, just so we are all clear.
- Phone call from nice lady
- Entire world knows I want to adopt
- I am a freak with no social skills... I might as well have been raised by wolves in the wilds of Ukraine.
- Nice lady is scared.
- I have no friends (possibly due to bullet point 3)
- My husband may or may not be afraid of me
- You must eat at Taco Bueno
- I am not drunk
How's that for starting off the new year?
*Names changed to protect the innocent
**NWA people, have you been to Taco Bueno yet? I am in love. I mean real love, not just the puppy stuff. How did I ever survive for 31 years without it? Go, you must eat the taco, now, I tell you!