I like to communicate.  Up until my marriage started to fall apart, I used to pride myself on being a good communicator.  I could talk to anyone, at any level - from CEOs to farmers to random people in line at the grocery store.  I love talking, listening, hearing people’s stories.  It’s rare that I am speechless.  Perhaps I should be speechless more often. 

I got a weird package in the mail today from Apple.  It was an oddly shaped package, wrapped similarly to the way Amazon.com wraps their books.  I was distracted - it was dinner time.  I pulled it out of the packaging and at first I thought someone had accidentally shipped me a MacBook - it was white and flat and very Apple-like.  I pulled the cover off:

It’s weird pulling a book out and seeing your own mug on the front cover.  I had no idea what was inside it - naked pictures from Vegas?  Much better, actually.  The pages look similar to this one:

Way back when I met my internet friends*, I had no idea how much a part of my life they would become.  Though we are scattered around the world (literally), these women have been rocks to me (just like the one I broke my cocktail glass with at Nobu).  They are, as a whole, the most non-judgmental, diverse, intelligent, well-spoken, strong and opinionated group of women I know.  We get in tiffs from time to time, but the core group is still hanging together more than 2 years after we met online.  We’ve watched eachother’s children grow, gone through pregnancies, miscarriages, marital issues, family drama, fights, a few trolls, and a lot of alcohol when we’ve met in person. 

When I was hospitalized, one of the first people I called was Amanda.  She had everyone else’s phone numbers and is Ms. Efficiency, so I knew she would get the word out so that my absence wouldn’t cause any worry as we check in with other daily.  It should be a testament to the strength of those relationships that she was one of the first people I called.  She kept in touch with Mike, sent notes out to everyone, fielded phone calls, and generally made herself available.  When I got home, Jess refused to take no for an answer and called and called until I finally answered the phone.  They continue, as a group, to reach out to me, even though I’m a total crap friend these days who doesn’t return phone calls or emails and rarely checks in on the forum we have set up.  They seem to ignore my boring, monosyllabic responses and they continue to love me regardless of how unpleasant I am these days. 

Apparently, Cathy came up with the original idea.  Cathy, who lives in Hong Kong, who has very young baby and a very active boy, somehow coordinated and put it together.  The book is divided into sections.  Each section has two pages, each set written by one of the women in the group.  There are pictures of us together.  There are lists of ways I have affected their lives. Funny memories of phone calls, emails, or our rare meet-ups. There is poetry and some of the nicest things that have ever been written about me. 

Today was one of those days where I don’t answer the phone.  I spent a lot of time being angry that one of my medications IS.NOT.WORKING.  I’m over feeling like shit every day, I’m tired of crying, I’m tired of being a mess inside and putting on a happy face in public.  I’m tired of hurting my husband, and I’m tired of hurting period.  When I opened that book, and forced myself not to focus on how fat I was in some of the pictures (old habits die hard), I got a very timely glimpse of the person I was.  All these days and months thinking that I’ll never be the same again, or be loved again, or be enjoyed by others - well, I will come out of this.  Under the sadness and depression and fear, I’m still there, clawing my way out, trying to redefine myself.  My friends articulated things about me that I haven’t dared think about, let alone say.  They took time out of their own crazy lives and did this thing for me, and I was completely and utterly speechless.

After I cried (this time because I was so awestruck over what they had done), it took me another 30 minutes to try to thank them for what they did and tell them how important they are in my life.  Words really failed me - there is no good way to express the amount of feeling I have about what they did.  I tried, though - and I’m trying again here. 

My family has supported me through this time.  My husband, whom I’ve devastated, has supported me.  And without them, I wouldn’t be surviving.  Equally important, my friends have surrounded me, called me, written me, pestered me, bought me coffee and wine, and beat me until I cracked and bled.  They beat the truth out of me, then helped put me together again.  I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the people who have formed a very warm and protective circle around me, but I am truly and completely grateful. 

I realize this may seem unnecessary, but I started making this list out in my head and I realized how many people have really and truly been there for me during this horrid stinky time in my life.  Writing it out was physical proof to me that I am the luckiest person on earth.  Thanks in particular to the following people, and please give me a break if I forgot someone because my medication messes with my memory:

Internet Freaks
Alicia
Amanda
Annita
Cathy
Christina
Jenni
Jess
Julia
Kate
Kristin
Melissa
Sara S.
Helena
and Jae, even though she’s left us for the moment (I love you Jae - come back!)

Twitter Peeps (many of whom are now real-life friends):
TheCheckoutGirl
WxDan
JasonKenney
KnownHuman
Snarketta
TrevorDickerson
Napkins
SheDrivesAJimmy
RichmondMom
MsMaladjusted
NewRose
RiverCityGal
Horhey
KindnessGirl
AnaRVA
CarrieFleck
KatieSmithRVA
UVALeg

Friends Met Through “Normal” Channels:
Susan.  I need to say it again.  Susan.  SUUUUUUUUUUUU-SAN.
Sara B.
Laura freakin’ P.
Julie R.
Julie “Restaurant Week” P.
John, Karen & Emma N.
Kimberly H.
Charlette M.
Dee R.
Rick W.
Pat W.
Brent R.
Chris M.
Amanda W.
Chris C.
Tricia H.
Julie P.
Allison E.
Philip & Mary L.
Michael M.
Bill P.
Ellen M.
Wynne R.
Jill B.
Helen B.
Kathy C.
Jennifer D. (my therapist - and she’s awesome)
Henry S.

My Crazy Family in its Entirety, but Particularly:
Anja
Sally
Risa
Mom and Dad
Dave and Beth
Aunt Paula

To each and every one of you:  thank you for being exactly what I needed, when I needed it. 

*i say this in a tongue-in-cheek way - at Bradley’s recent SMCRVA presentation, he said something to the effect that internet friends can be just as real, if not more so, than our flesh and blood friends. It was validating, because everything Bradley says is unequivocably true. 

I recently had the pleasure of meeting, live and in person, the infamous and city-renowned Kate Hall from Richmond Mom.  If you use twitter, you can also follow her @richmondmom.  Her tweets often make me spew water out of my nose or snort loudly in public, both good things (if not slightly painful).  Kate’s my hero, and I really fell in love with her after we carpooled to an SMC event and she sat down in my car with a purple Solo cup full of red wine.  The woman can rock it!  She also understands completely that just because you own a website doesn’t mean you’re rolling in the cash.  We both work hard, and understood immediately the challenges of being both mothers and business owners.  It’s not all that glamorous, but the good thing is, I get to meet women like Kate because of my job.

Kate is also my hero because she’s a published author.  And she wrote an amazing book for children entitled Richmond Rocks.  In a nutshell:  Richmond Rocks is a brief glimpse into the amazing history that Richmond holds for its little learners. Three Richmond, VA kids discover Richmond’s past by journeying through some of its many historical landmarks and sights, with the help of their mom.  On this fabulous journey, they learn that Richmond really does rock!

As a non-native to this area, one of the things that struck me my first year of living in Richmond was how saturated with history the streetcorners and cobblestones are.  My kids are growing up in a historical environment, but are clueless because we mostly hang in the sterilized green-grassed lawns of a suburb.  There ain’t nothin’ historical about the Starbucks on the corner, or the strip malls.  Head 15 minutes east and slightly south and you’re surrounded by history.  Kate recognized the story idea would be an excellent way to introduce the 4-8 demographic about their hometown. 

One of the things I loved best about the book is that it is all Richmond, 100% through and through.  The author and editor, the illustrator, the photography, and the publisher:  all local.  It’s awesome.  I’m super proud of Kate, and encourage you Richmonders (Richmondites?  Monders?  RichmondPeeps?)  to purchase the book.  Or at least go to her site and send her a message of love and support.  She deserves it. 

Tonight a friend took me out for dinner at the relatively new Water Grill that opened where Karsen’s used to be.  It was a beautiful fall night, and we were able to snag a table outside. 

Food critic I am not, but I had a fabulous dinner.  We split two appetizers - the fried buffalo oysters recommended by @rivercitygal and the edamame hummus.  Both were delicious.  For the main event, I ordered the seafood pasta, which was served over whole wheat linguine in a tomato broth with shrimp and mussels.  I loved the fact that I could get whole wheat pasta at a restaurant (it’s all I eat at home).  My friend ordered a pork chop in a cranberry glaze with a poached pear stuffed with bleu cheese.  I drooled over the pear.  We splurged and got dessert - a hazelnut toffee torte and lemon sorbet.  Hilariously enough, the sorbet came out in a martini glass and had two round lumps.  Two blueberries perched on the lumps.  My friend exclaimed, “Oh look, titties!” when they came out.  It was a big hit with the gray hairs next to us. 

I’m no restaurant critic, nor is my palette refined like WhineMeDineMe, but I loved the entire experience and really appreciated a dinner out with a friend I haven’t seen in at least a year.  Especially when I didn’t have to pay   So nice to just forget about everything and indulge in good food and conversation, two of my favorite things.

Awhile back I somehow got lucky enough to stumble onto The Checkout Girl’s blog.  Here’s a few reasons why I love her, and her blog:

1.  She’s in Richmond, VA. 
2.  She’s really funny.
3.  She calls it like she sees it.
4.  She makes fun of the same people I do.
5.  She makes fun of herself.
6.  Her tweets are really funny.
7.  She works near where I live, which means I’ve probably run across her in my daily life. 
8.  She only blogs when she has something to say - no verbal diarrhea for The Checkout Girl.
9.  It’s totally fascinating to see Richmond from the eyes across the conveyor belt.
10.  She’s got a great work ethic, which is pretty rare these days.

I’m also a little jealous of TCG.  I’m a little jealous because she’s managed to stay anonymous.  This means that she can say whatever she wants, as long as she manages to keep her specific store and identity veiled.  Sometimes I wish that I was anonymous too - then I could REALLY let it hang out!  She also won best new blog this year (local bloggy awards).  I like her blog because it’s readable and fun.  Some of the other “famous” blogs of Richmond are really heavy, intellectual, or political.  Could y’all just dumb it down a bit?  Not that TCG isn’t pithy or sometimes heavy, but she does it with a light heart.

Unfortunately, BECAUSE she’s anonymous, I can’t just send her an email and say “Hilarious blogging woman! Let’s hook up for coffee and dish the dirt.”  I mean, I could, but she couldn’t really accept, could she?  And she probably wouldn’t, because I could be some crazy internet stalker.  Not that she doesn’t deal with enough crazy people on a daily basis - I would be nothing compared to that. 

Whether you live here or not, you should read it.  And maybe be nicer to the person at your local grocery store.  Because they could TOTALLY be blogging about you right now. 

About a year after Jennifer and I started working together on the marketing consulting front, my good friend Sara decided to strike out on her own.  She formed a company called Neat, and it was like Sara and her new venture were a match made in a heaven.  Sara’s calm demeanor, her love for all things organized, and her desire to help people who are organizationally challenged (did you know there is actually a disorder called Chronically Disorganized??? Yeah, there is) melded perfectly into a sweet delicious career. 

I remember those days fondly because we worked together a lot, trading marketing advice for organizational help in our 2nd office on Franklin Street.  We had many long lunches where the three of us strategized about taking over the world of Richmond in our various ways. It was exciting to be in start-up mode with someone else, especially one I respected so much. 

Sara has come a long way since then - she has a podcast on iTunes, she has headed the local NAPO chapter here, and she mentors people whenever they need it.  She’s got certifications out the wazoo, and she’s worked with people that would within 30 seconds make me slightly insane.  And she actually ENJOYS it.  Although she seemed a bit shy when I first met her, she has turned into a master networker and knows the ins and outs of this weird town we both call home. 

Sara helped me a few times around my house, although she focuses primarily on businesses.  She did me a favor and organized my very first playroom.  She took the disaster that was the room and laid out a floor plan, ordered all the stuff for me from Ikea and Container Store, hung everything, labelled everything, and most importantly, taught me the “whys” behind where she put things.  It was fascinating to watch the way her mind worked.  She watched the girls play, then organized their toys into places they could reach - logical places.  My idea, until that point, had been wandering around Target, randomly pulling baskets or storage shelves and placing them equally as randomly into whatever room I was bothered by the most. I’d never learned to do it with forethought or planning. It was the ultimate. I gave her a budget, she spent my money, and suddenly I had a playroom to end all playrooms. 

In this way, I’m very much my mother’s daughter.  My house is usually pretty neat - but open a drawer, especially in the bedrooms or kitchen, let alone my closet, and you have a bit of chaos.  I suck at filing - I hate it - so unless I have a system, everything just piles up.  When I saw how Sara had magically transformed the playroom, I started foaming at the mouth.  I would have spent half our income at Container Store if Mike hadn’t reeled me back in by asking how organizing the attic would help if we couldn’t pay the mortgage.  I reasoned that if the playroom made me feel more calm (I dreaded picking up at night a lot less), perhaps I should keep going until my organizing frenzy resulted in a permament state of Om.  I started siccing her on the garage.  Then she helped with my bathroom.  I sent her to my parent’s - she organized their pantry. At that point, I did my closet on my own, following the guidelines she’d showed me.

This past weekend, Mike and I both went on an organizing binge.  The closets were getting unmanageable again, and as I worked, I realized how profound of an impact Sara’s had on me.  Now, instead of just “cleaning” everything (meaning shoving the same items into the old places), I actually sort through them, figure out what I really need, and then look at the space I have to work with.  It doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when my house is chaotic, I feel chaotic.  Bringing some order to my filing system and hme office were imperative for me to be able to be effiicient.

Best of all, Sara just announced she’s pregnant - so pretty soon I’ll be able to bounce her little monkey like she used to bounce mine.  I can’t wait to see if she manages to hold onto her sanity, as well as her fantastic ability to transform people and places, once the newest Bereika arrives.  I’m sure she’ll make it look like it’s no big deal.  That’s just how she rolls.