Dear Rachel,

I have been thinking about renaming this blog.  What I've got now, just seems so...ordinary, I guess.  But since I'm still finding my way in this vast world of blogging, still finding my "voice," if you will,  I'm not sure what to change it to.  I'm thinking something without my name would be cool.  And I think a change, at this point, is appropriate, as there are only a few people who know this blog even exists,  and most of them live in the same house as me.   

However, there seems to be one other person who reads it occasionally and her name is Rachel.  She's funny, sassy, and not at all sarcastic--ahem.   She also has the cutest little boy named Camden...(okay boys and a girl) and she shares them with the world at  andthenshesnapped.com.  (Okay, this was my first attempt at being techie: linking up?  We'll see if my expert: "Blogging for Dummies" did its job)

As such, sometimes I think I should just title my blog:  Dear Rachel, and write to her.  I mean I'd love it if someone wrote to me every day.  Unless they were weird, or a stalker.  But, then, stalkers are weird.  So I'll just stick with weird, it covers it all.   

Dear Rachel,

It has a nice ring to it; kind of like Dear Abby, or Dear Pioneer Woman, but without all the advice.  I don't presume to be that smart, nor do I have free stuff to give away--COOL, free stuff--that is.  

Like The Pioneer Woman, though, I do know about methane gas, thanks to Nora.  But who wants to hear about my kid's flatulence?   I don't even want to.  So we're working on that.  Let's just say, she has tummy issues.  

And I'm really not the best cook, or baker. 

Now if someone wanted to know where to find the best coffee shops, or the best running trails, or what kind of wine I had with dinner, (always red NEVER white) or seek advice on parenting, (although, honestly, that's still a work in progress) then I'm definitely their gal.  

Fortunately, for everyone, I'm not interested in giving out advice.  I'm just here, from time to time, to leave a few words about my life at random.   

So, as you can imagine, when my eyes settled in on the never-before-seen "1 comment," at the end of one of my posts recently, I was ecstatic!  And a bit scared.  So I just sat there, staring at those words for an eternity, okay maybe like thirty seconds, completely unable to move the cursor over them and click.  All the while, my mind raced:  What did they say? I hope they were kind.  Did they find my words funny, witty, interesting?  Or, at the very least, NOT boring?  Finally I could take it no longer.

I clicked.  

It was from Rachel.  

Of course it was!  

Who was I expecting?  

And her words were lovely.  Although, honestly, getting a comment from Rachel felt a bit like getting one from my mother. Not that Rachel is like my mother, for she is NOT.  But she's kind of like the Mother Blog I aspire to.  She's funny, witty, and takes WAY better photos than me.  And she has like a zillion readers.  

Everyone, I assume, enjoys a bit of praise from time to time.  I am no exception.  It validates our efforts, makes us feel worthwhile, pushes us onward.  Yet when that validation comes from our mothers, I have to wonder:  is said praise based on merit or some sort of maternal, obligatory duty?

Thus, praised and pleased, I moved forward:  Blogging, blabbing, and thinking about my world.  Until, a few days ago, when I encountered those two blessed, little words yet again. This time there was no hesitation, however.  I simply pointed and clicked, ready to read what Rachel had written.  

But it wasn't from Rachel!  

It was from Shannon Zimmerman!

Who is Shannon Zimmerman?  

Apparently, she is the Shannon Zimmerman of The Pennsylvania Auntie Anne's family, and she was responding to a comment I had made about Nora's trip to our local Auntie Anne's pretzel shop!  How in the world she came across my little blog, within just hours of my post, is beyond me.    Are there really pretzel spies out there?  And, if so, then who else is out there, peeking, lurking, spying.  Well, maybe they'll stop by too.  This, obviously, illustrates my total lack of understanding when it comes to the management of information on the Internet.

In the end, while I did feel a bit like Big Brother had invaded my computer, I was happy he left a comment.  More importantly, I was happy he wasn't my mother.  

Thanks Shannon!

xoxo,
S-