The Invisible Commenter

So there's this blog I like, a lot, actually (no, it's not yours) and I used to visit it all the time – happily dropping witty comments like breadcrumbs in a gingerbread forest. This blog has more commenters than cats have hairballs. And people don't just comment once, they comment over and over. Eventually the comments take on a life of their own that have nothing to do with the original blog post.

They're a family, these commenters. Close-knit, with nicknames for each other and seamless and sightless adoration for the blogger.

When first tossing my comment gems into the mix I noticed that nobody commented on my comments. I thought, OK, well, I'm new. It will take time to be one of the cool kids. Months went by. My comments continued to be ignored. After a while I thought, what am I doing here? Not that I wanted to be one of the in-crowd, not really, because I have my own cool crowd (love you guys, I really do) but it was the studious lack of involvement that made me feel like an interloper. So I stopped reading for a while.

I started again because this blog is a bit like crack and this morning I couldn't help myself: I left a comment. It was rather like sending a boy you like in school a love note to see if he loves you back. Sort of like that, I guess.

I went back tonight to see if anybody noticed.

It was there, alone, other comments walking over it and on it and through it like it wasn't even there. It was road pizza, this comment. All guts and glory in the middle of the highway while the cars go whizzing over it, its little comment face pushed up against the yellow line. Poor wee flat thing.

I don't tell my commenters here on the River how much they mean to me very often because I don't like to be all smarmy. But I really appreciate you taking time out of your incredibly busy life and reading my drivel and leaving a comment. I don't always reply because I'm geeky at replying – I always feel awkward. It's like, my blog was my comment and now I want to hear from YOU.

Do know my heart does a happy little skip when I see a new comment. Even from spammers!

But especially from you.

oxoxoxoxoxox

P.S. - I'M DOING NANOWRIMO THIS YEAR.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!

Are you?

And then she said

I've got blog-blank-page-itis. I'm staring at this screen thinking, there is absolutely nothing new in my life but there is, actually, I just have blog-blank-page-itis.
I have new hair, for starters. Tracy at The Renaissance in Bracebridge gave me a sassy slanted bob. The back is cut to army regulation, right at the hairline, and the front is cut to my jawline. Almost all of the dead-kilt-by-blonding hair has been chopped off and what's left of it has been dyed to a satisfyingly rich chestnut brown.

I remind myself of my cousin, Kelly. Kelly, if you're reading this, I look just like you for some reason. I mean, I probably look nothing like you but when I look in the mirror I'm all, "hey Kelly, how's it going?"

Oh, and I have a new exercise bike. I now have a treadmill, an eliptical and a bike, which is practically an entire home gym, so why do I still look like the side of a barn? I am working on that. This week has been another good one, diet-wise. I'm finding the Weight Watchers program easy-peasy and the built-in cheat mechanisms mean I'm not going hungry. Tonight's my Monday weigh-in/meeting and I'm hoping for another couple pounds down the drain. Or should I say down the toilet. When you eat as many vegetables as I do, you spend a lot of time whizzing. So anyway, I've been feeling real thin. The bathtub is getting wider, my clothes are loosening up and I have a ton of energy. But then I went into Canadian Tire on Sunday and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the security mirrors and I couldn't reconcile the old fat woman in the mirror with my sleek new self. (Who has self-image problems? heh) Who cares what I looked like in the stupid mirror – I was there to buy a bicycle and get all fit!

I've been faithfully riding my bike up and down the road for a few weeks now but was stymied last week by work and social schmoozing and couldn't get out on my bike at all. When I had time it was pouring rain. Not to mention the days are already getting shorter and soon the snow will be on the ground. I didn't want to give up all that pedalling goodness so I decided an exercise bike was the ticket. Yes, I have a treadmill and an eliptical but I have bad knees and I really can't take the impact. The bike lets me sit on my arse and pedal without knee stress. So I went to Wal-mart because our local Canadian Tire doesn't sell exercise equipment, and bought a recumbent bike for $299 plus tax. On Sunday Dave put it together and the damned thing wouldn't work. The electronics were all screwed up. So we took it back and then went down the road to the Gravenhurst Canadian Tire where we picked up a way-better bike for a way-better price. This bike was regularly $399, on sale for $199. Bargoon, eh! I don't know why I buy anything at Wal-mart. First of all I hate the way they treat their employees and their business practises. And a lot of the stuff they sell is just crap. Live and learn, I guess. Having said that, you'll probably see me there next week.

I'm hoping all my friends on the east coast are doing OK in the wake of Hurricane Irene. I've been watching the news and crossing my fingers for you, hoping and praying you're safe and sound and dry.

Speaking of weather, I had to laugh this morning while watching Canada AM. The weather guy, Jeff, announced that the temperature high in St. Johns, Newfoundland, would be 27 degrees C. "Finally," he said, "they're getting summer temperatures just as summer is over." When Dave and I were in Newfoundland last October it was as hot as hades. I packed sweaters but I should have brought shorts. Ninety degrees in the shade, it was. Oh well. To Laurita and Alan and the folks, enjoy it while you can!

Momster Tales

I have a secret. Shhhh! Hardly anyone knows about it so be very, very quiet. It's a new blog, okay? A mommy blog. Don't you be turning your nose up, I saw you, don't deny it. Just because you a) don't have kids, or b) don't like kids, or c) all of the above, doesn't mean you won't like what I'm sellin' ya. You'll like it because it's funny and it's really well-written. Really, really well-written. Try saying that three times fast.

Here's the secret-secret part, it's partly written by someone you know. Yup, you know her. You even love her. You do, you do, you do.

And nope, not telling you who she is. You'll just have to guess.

This post? Killed me.

Notice I am the only comment. Remedy that, would you?