If You Don't Have Anything Nice to Say, Say it Loud

We just had the most riculous weather event -- from bright yellow, wet-blanket steamy heat to a sudden fast, hard, dense rain and back again within minutes. Why do I have the distinct impression that Mother Nature just said "hey, all you people who are constantly bitching that it's too cold or too hot -- psych!" (or something a little cruder, but today in my imagination Mother Nature doesn't want to set a bad example).

I haven't written about BOLO yet, because the day after we went back to the cottage and resumed killing fish and brain cells in a wirelessless location. But it was really great. As we were driving downtown I was a little disappointed in myself that I wasn't reading, which is kind of good -- I'm starting to crave the adrenaline rush that comes with doing things that scare me (playing the piano for friends and family at my birthday party; sleeping over at the cottage with twelve other people; reading out loud to a room full of friendly, supportive people -- tune in next week when I say 'thank-you' to the grocery clerk who hands me my change, that should be a real rush). I wasn't sure what to expect, if people read previously posted material or wrote new stuff, which was one of the reasons I decided not to read this time around. Pam and I drove up and down Bank Street a little looking for Irene's Pub. Irene's Pub was hot. Really hot. After the first hour or so we decided we were just going to have to embrace the heat and think of trickling sweat and increasingly frizzy hair as sexy.

Lynn (Turtlehead -- who I previously met in person at World Trivia Night) posted Pam and me at the welcoming table, either because she hasn't been reading my blog enough to know that meeting new people swells my throat closed, sort of like shellfish or peanuts for allergic people, or she'd forgotten, or she thought it would be fun to watch me try to welcome people through the wheezing. Anyway, Pam took it like a pro, and I just sat there beaming at people like an idiot. Oh, except for when, shortly after Lynn had given us press kits, a man came and introduced himself to me and Pam and, noticing that he had a big camera and thinking he might be press, I went over to Lynn and said "hey, there's a guy with a camera", and she said "yeah, that's Milan". Then I looked around and saw there were quite a few people with cameras, and remembered that some of the bloggers use a lot of....you guessed it....photographs in their blogs. I asked Lynn if she wanted me there mostly as comic relief to make the nervous people less nervous. She didn't say no.

Listening to bloggers read their material out loud was more fun than I thought it would be. Even people who were nervous and not natural performers were easy to listen to -- something about it being your own writing read in your own voice, I guess. Then there were people who were clearly born to perform (this woman, with the velvet whiskey voice and the amazing face, except I couldn't stop staring at the gorgeous pattern in her dress). I saw some old friends and some newish blogging friends and met some even newer friends. When I started blogging I never would have imagined that anyone I didn't know would read my blog, and if they read it I never imagined they would comment, and if they commented I never imagined that I would meet them and love them and make up stories about us having tea parties and doing each other's hair and... oops, sorry, was that out loud? Lynn is one of those women who do too much -- organize giant fundraisers at their kids' schools, spend the summer at museums and art galleries instead of letting their kids watch Igor four hundred times, plan and execute events whereby people who generally hunch anti-socially behind their computers actually have to meet and interact and stand upright (strangely, no one seemed to find that difficult other than me). I sort of have a love/hate relationship with her, because even though she's admirable and all that, she keeps making me leave the house. Oh, also, she has this kick-ass sister Fame Throwa who I would like even if she didn't say I was her favourite blogger (without arm-twisting or payment). She looks like a slightly younger slightly thinner slightly lighter-haired Tina Fey, which Lynn said would make her roll her eyes, so I wouldn't mention it except when I was telling my husband about everything the next day and I alluded to her looking like Tina Fey, he got this weirded-out slightly nauseous expression and I said 'What?!', all ready to be offended on either FameThrowa's or Tina Fey's behalf. Then his expression cleared and he said "OH. TINA FEY. I was thinking of TAMMY FAYE". (Sincere apologies to the very attractive Fame Throwa for having that image associated with her, however briefly).

So this year I was more than content to drink quietly and laugh loudly. Next year I may be prepared to blog out loud.