Day Two: Je Suis Strange

Not too many of you have jumped at the chance to tell me what to do and where to go for NaBloPoMo's "STRANGE(R)" theme this month, but don't worry: the offer does not expire. Any time you're ready, Readers, I'm here. In the mean time, I already have a great idea from miss.chief in two parts: tell you about strange things I've done in my life, and talk about strange photos. The latter gave me an idea: I'm going to try to take a few photos every day and post them here for discussion, which is something I NEVER do, since I'm more word-y than image-y. But NaBloPoMo is nothing if not an opportunity to bust some boundaries.

The lovely Jennifer from Thoughts From A Blonde also gave me a thought with her comment, in which she mentioned being distracted by The Bachelor. I didn't watch this season, but I didn't need to, since my trusty bible US Weekly had screaming soundbites on the subject every week. (I did watch The Bachelorette once, when Meredith picked Ian, and I think I scared myself being so drawn to that blond bad boy that I dreamed about him for weeks after.) So I ask, in the interest of documenting What Is Strange: Why do we care about some random dude who makes out with a succession of ex-Hooters waitresses who are on the show in order to get discovered for Dancing With The Stars and will date him for exactly 10 minutes after the final rose? That is something I ponder in the wee hours.

Anyway, here is my strange tidbit for the day, and it's blog-related: Once upon a time, in a blogosphere far, far away, there was a brief mania for Secret Blog Pals, and one day I was suddenly inspired to jump on the bandwagon. I received an invitation from a blog friend in Florida, and was quickly paired with a blogger in Oklahoma, also an adoptive mom, for whom I had a window of two months (I think?) to shower with surprises.

Now you might already be wondering why this prospect would sound alluring, and I'm feeling you. I don't really know, either. The facts are these: I began cyber-stalking this woman, poring over her blog for clues to her needs and desires, determined that my package(s) were going to be the most special and meaningful she'd ever received. I purchased several incarnations of her favorite candy, books and toys for her children, sweet-smelling ablutions for her. I heard that she enjoyed cross-stitch, and though my response to that was "What the @#$%&* is cross-stitch?" I learned, and studied the various kits in my local JoAnns. When the day finally came for me to mail my package, the box was huge, and heavy. I could feel pinpricks of foolishness as I forked over nearly $20 just to mail that sucker.

Dutifully, she blogged about the package, displaying its myriad wonders in a series of thoughtful photos. And as I viewed these photos from two thousand miles away, I suddenly knew with unshakable conviction that I would not do the Big Reveal: when the two months ended, I never wrote or posted to tell her who I am.

Why, you ask? Because I'm weird. Or maybe not. Suddenly, the idea of telling her "Surprise! A total stranger sent you all this stuff, and I'm that stranger!" floated above me like a big parachute of pointlessness, and I just didn't want to. In fact, I felt very determined that I DIDN'T want to. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her--she still got the package.

To this day, I occasionally drop by her blog, see how her kids are growing, read about her adventures in parenting. She seems like a nice gal, from a great distance, and that's how it should be.

I wonder if she ever did the cross-stitch I sent her, pulled up by the fire on a wintry evening, feet on a cross-stitched footstool, sipping a cup of cocoa. I believe the pattern I chose featured a little red house with the caption "Bless This Mess." Just kidding.