A little while ago I stumbled upon this blog post.
It resonated with me because it’s precisely how blog reading feels/is to me. I read blogs in the morning with my coffee *before* the zaniness of my day begins.
I also liked the concept because my favorite blogs to *read* are written in that manner.
As if we were just two friends getting together and chatting over coffee.
Ive got lots rolling around in my cranium today and really–if I could–I might not blog at all.
Id just invite you over for a cup.
Id tell you Im kind of terrified for the summer. We’ve found our Oakland groove. A few after school activities, a smattering of play dates, & the Tornado still surrenders to some mommy & me time. It’s perfect. And, in almost exactly a month, this new-perfect ends and summer begins. Back in Austin Id know precisely how it would unfold. Here? In Oakland? If we could meet for a latte Id tell you Im kind of terrified for the summer.
Id share with you how Id hoped this post would give me an epiphany. Id overshare & ramble about how Im not sure what direction Im headed next. Id badger you about whether you thought it’s time to shed my MizFit moniker. Id repeatedly, annoyingly bring up how Im forty-three and ten months old and Im not sure where I want to weave my words anymore. How Im ready to leap and make changes before 50 (!) — but uncertain where to begin.
Id smile in remembrance & share a Tornado story. Id yammer about how she & her dad took a trip, had fun, sang songs and exhausted themselves. Id laugh about how they inexplicably sang—at a random tour guide’s behest—rounds & rounds of You Are My Sunshine. I’d stop, smile and tell you about how that night, as she couldn’t fall asleep, she told him:
Dada my skies are gray. Mama is my sunshine.
Id tell you about a book Id just read & how it caused me to stop, think and *really* see the people around me. Id ask you if you ever pondered things like that. Id implore you to read it too so we could discuss. Id giggle & tell you how I LONGED to start an early morning walking book club in my new neighborhood but I wasnt certain they were ready for Morning Me yet. I’d grab my iphone and make you tell me all your favorite books and write done the ones Ive not read.
Id horrify you with my abundant knowledge of all the trashtastic shows on BRAVO. Id yammer about Kroy, Bravo Andy, Patti Stanger, Josh Altman et al until youd wonder if I realized they werent really my friends. Id beg you to DVR them and claim to only ever ever watch the stuff while I did cardio.
Id grow serious and share how the Tornado cried the other night as I held her. How she said it was hard & she felt like she wasnt ten but wasnt four. Id tell you how Id told her I understood. I feel like Im not twenty—-but Im not 43 and eight months either. Id tell you how she sobbed and said she didnt know what she was and I told her it’s ok. Sometimes we dont know exactly what we are or how we feel and it’s ok. Big people feel like that sometimes, too.
And then we’d both look at our watches and realize we needed to go. Our to-do lists summoned and coffee time was over.
We wouldnt mind, however, because we’d know we’d be here again.
Sharing stories and drinking coffee.
- If we had coffee—-what would you tell me?