When I started blogging, it wasn't even cool. "Blogging" as a verb wasn't even in use yet. No, back when I started in 2002, I was using a dedicated channel on AOL and we "journaled."
I can remember the very first journal I ever read. I followed her for close to a month before I started my own. To tell you the truth, I don't know why I even started.
But I am so glad that I did.
The kids are big now, and mostly sassy, so chronicling their adventures has somewhat fallen to the wayside. I don't necessarily consider myself a "Mommy Blogger" as much as "A Blogger that happens to be a Mommy."
Unless someone wants to pay me for something, I'll call myself whatever he or she wishes.
Over these last eight years, my reasons for continuing to "blog" or "journal" have grown up with me. I have met some amazing people that are truly my friends even if we have never laid eyes on one another. I have encountered some people that, well, I guess are their own brand of crazy. That's what's great about life--diversity.
As many people that I have been so grateful to meet and be a part of their lives, never would I have guessed that I would meet one person in particular that is so much like me, people may wonder if we are not one in the same.
Those of you that have been reading for any length of time and been following the comments are familiar with Sara.
Sara and I shock ourselves at the similar ways that we think. I mean, sometimes it is downright spooky. When we make our posts, there is no emailing, no preplanning--nothing.
While we have laughed and joked about things over time, TODAY was the day that really, REALLY got me.
Day 16 of Sara's Challenge asks to name a favorite book, magazine, and poem. I was going to write mine yesterday, but I got caught up in other writing-type assignments, and let it go.
Sara didn't do hers, either.
But wait! There's more.
This morning ::coughafternooncough:: when I get up, I am doing my usual Facebook, email, Twitter checks. Sara has posted a link to her new blog post. Naturally, I had to click on over.
I nearly spit my drink out when I read her favorite poem. BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN.
The reason for the spitting and choking?
My favorite poem is by SHEL SILVERSTEIN.
Now, we didn't pick the same poem, and frankly, it's probably a good thing as I would have fallen over dead with shock, but really? Shel Silverstein? What are the odds?
So, I make a snarky comment on her blog post:
And really? Shel Silverstein? Because you KNEW that is the poet I was going to list. Isn't it? You were just trying to beat me to it. Now it will look like I copied you.
To which she replied (in email):
You know, as I wrote that, I thought "There's no WAY Heather is going to post a Shel Silverstein poem..."
Without further ado, here is my favorite poem I was planning on posting. Really.
"Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout" Narrated by Shel Silverstein