It's a funny thing, when you meet people you know from blogs. I always feel slightly formal, like it's an occasion of state and all the reporters and photographers are watching. Also like I've been reading this person's diary and I'm not sure if they know how much I know about them. Or whether they've read mine, and how much they know about me.
All of which is true, more or less.
And most of us are different in person. Like, from Squid's blog I had this image of a whip-smart, take-no-prisoners, wisecracking funny formidable Personage. Then all of a sudden there in the coffeehouse was this totally smart, funny, warm, NICE mom-person, who is I'm sure quite capable of taking no prisoners when the occasion warrants but was incredibly gracious and unflappable, despite being on vacation at her in-laws' with three kids and several other relatives, and having just found her way to a coffeehouse in a strange city.
I, on the other hand, was stricken with a fit of shyness at meeting someone so cool and famous, and was alternately tongue-tied or embarrassingly blurt-y. So if we ever meet up, you and I, O Blog Reader, I guess I should warn you that I'm sort of a dorky introvert and have few social skills. Well. Now you know.
Mermaid Girl and Iz and Iz's cousin Mimi, who was along for the ride, were under no such compunctions, and were soon exchanging vital information like who is in what grade and who has vacation for how long and who celebrates what holidays and who has how many grandparents. And the inestimably cute and cheerful Baby Mali babbled indiscrimately at everyone, kindly let me hold her, and had no noticeable inhibitions at all.
All shyness was tossed to the wind anyway when we ditched the coffeehouse and went to the Troll for climbing and photo ops of the girls. And here they are, with Squid's permission, for your viewing pleasure:
Not much, just chillin'.
Checking for troll boogers as per Squid's suggestion.
Circa 2020: punk rock band The Pseudonyms, on the cover of their smash hit debut album, "2106".
Critics will scratch their heads and debate what the album title can possibly mean. We wonder, too. Only the graffiti artist knows.
"The baby was the cutest but the big girl was the nicest," MG said on the way home.
"Say 'stinky underwear!'" (How come I never thought of that?)
Now we're off to Wyyoming at 4 in the morning; see you when next I run into Internet access. And a very