"Don't imagine you're too familiar, and I don't see you any more."
You gotta love Billy Joel.
A few posts back I pointed out that I have always had the privelege of being surrounded by smart, gifted, and above all KOOKY women. I don't know how I manage to attract people of that ilk. Must be my shampoo.
And one of the things I observed was that the comments you leave after my posts almost always reflect your having sort of 'jumped on board' whatever loony train of thought I had chuggin' down the tracks, and how fun it is to see that happen.
I write a post using fake scriptures, you comment in fake scripture lingo. I write a post starting with "Don't you hate it when..." and all your comments start with -- say it with me -- "Don't you hate it when..." I write a post composed of whatever random debris I find lying around my psyche -- like the loose change and hairbrushes one might find way down in the mental couch cushions -- and your comments are all equally quirky and random!
Too dang funny!
Now, I am not a blogging savant like Kristina, who, I have on other occasions speculated, is actually the control specimen from which a zillion blogging, researching, and above all COMMENTING clones have been spawned. She assures me she comes in peace, but when did Captain Picard ever trust a bloggy alien in a blue Snuggie? The answer is NEVER!
And that's how he kept the galaxy safe for democracy and reality television.
But my point is not to aggravate Kristina, for whom I have nothing but admiration and whose slave I am as long as she and her Snuggie-with-the-alien-hole-cut-out-of-it promise to eat me last.
No, aggravating Kristina is just a happy coincidence.
My POINT is --hang on, I need to read what I've written so far; I think I've forgotten my point -- hmm hmm Billy Joel yadda yadda kooky commenters uh huh uh huh couch cushions yeah yeah Kristina is totally gonna kick my small domesticated farm animal -- OH YEAH!
My POINT is, I don't get a hundred gazillion comments on my posts. If I get in the teens I host a small celebratory gathering, complete with hors d'oeuvres. The 20s, it becomes a catered dinner party. The 30s, a luau complete with roast pig, ukulele-ists and hula dancers. (They're the entertainment; I don't roast them.)
Well, wouldn't you just know it. After five months and 50 posts ranging from thoughts on authentic living to speculation on how ancient Israelite women handled their week o' rage, from the dark mists of depression to the glorious light of the Atonement, from the mountains to the prairies to the oceans white with foam -- in short, after 50 separate and distinct essays covering the wide spectrum of human experience, the first post to ever receive more than 40 COMMENTS...
...is the one on falling down in front of other people.
And of course, in keeping with the time-honored tradition of Guests of the Backordered Life, you all told the most hysterical stories of when YOU fell down in public.
Oh. My. Word. I haven't laughed so hard in a long, long time. If you get a minute, go back and just read the comments. They trump my post. In spades.
So. What does Billy Joel have to do with all of this? Well, I'll tell ya.
I lost a follower today.
And it felt just like it feels when you glance across the room in time to see that one friend -- the quiet one who has been by your side for years, who is bar none the most loyal and trustworthy and proven friend in the place -- slip away from you and your new, popular pals, and leave the party early.
Especially since, I am ashamed to say, I couldn't actually tell you which follower left. I would like to think, if I went to that list and looked, there would be a her-shaped hole, and I'd know immediately who it was that decided she wasn't having fun any more.
So, I just wanted to take a minute, you know, a break from all the laughing and story-telling and general feminine mayhem that is the typical order of the day pretty much anywhere I go, to tell all of you...
Thank you for stopping by and investing a little of yourself and your gifts and your heart in making the time we spend together so joyful, so edifying. So fun.
Thank you for reading and responding, encouraging and supporting, lifting and loving this almost complete stranger whom most of you only know from the time we spend laughing together in my virtual den.
I try to visit every new follower's blog at least once. I want to know you, what you're about, what brings you to that computer and compels you to put yourself out there for the rest of us to, well, more than anything, to notice.
I look forward to hearing from you, every day. I love reading your blogs, too. Many of you are more than virtual pals; I feel like we have trusted each other beyond what may even be sensible, and carved out a place in our lives for a new, different kind of relationship with someone we may never meet in the outside world.
Don't imagine you're too familiar, and I don't see you any more.
I see you. I really do.
Especially when you fall down the stairs, off the stage, on the ice, in the ocean, through the attic...