"Wait, did you blog that?"
Posted on May 16th, 2008 in San Francisco, friends
When Dave arrived this morning, I missed him at first because I was looking for a coffee-fueled Australian sexy photographer from Colorado and minister who visits fertility clinics like they’re bars, just had a birthday, loves shoes, loves shoes, loves shoes, and is running for president. Clearly, I get my bloggers — even the ones I like the most — confused with one another.
Parent blogging is like growing up, even down to the stages of maturity:
- Infancy. At this age, the mommy or daddyblogger is writing for a few family members, a couple of friends, and the family parakeet. (The parakeet just pretends to read it while he’s browsing for plucked chicken porn.)
- Toddlerhood. After a few months or a year, we start “meeting” other bloggers on line through comments and e-mail. Friendships at this stage are quick and intense and frequently based on blogroll exchanges. Anonymous bloggers may even expose their names — privately.
- First Grade. Inevitably, the day arrives when you meet someone offline that you’d only ever known online. (Going to BlogHer doesn’t count. Anyone can do that. I’m talking about seriously, intentional, let’s-meet-and-share-pretzels-and-orange-slices playdates.)
That’s as far as I’ve gotten personally, although I suspect that in the next phase the world showers me with accolades and ad revenue so we never have to work again. (Isn’t that how it works?) It may take a while to get there, but I’m pretty satisfied being in First Blogger Grade. I’ve met a lot of really cool people, and even made some “Do you want to come to my Bar Mitzvah?” friends through writing.
What’s hard, though, putting a blog with a face. Boobaby and I spent the morning with Dave and Ronen from Rattling the Kettle, up visiting San Francisco for the weekend. At some point on our way out to Fisherman’s Wharf I asked him how long he’d been a stay-at-home dad. Well, as it turns out, he’s not — I’d mushed up his story in my head with a hundred others that I’m keeping close or far tabs on: my blogroll.
“Was that you who blogged about your dachshund winning the dachshund derby and getting a special dachshund medal at the dachshund festival?” I might ask a blogging acquaintance.
“No, and in fact a dachshund ate my baby duck when I was a child and I’ve never gotten over it,” comes the reply. “And thank you for reminding me of that painful memory.”
So to Dave and all the my other friends whose stories are getting a little mixed up in my head, I apologize. (On the other hand, if you ever need to embellish your life history, just ask me what I remember about your trip to Vegas last year — you’ll be amazed at what you did!)
Yeah, I Twitter, don't laugh. 
May 16th, 2008 9:00 am
Yeah, right. For all those publishers clamoring to put up a book about affluent whining coddled dads. I should just pretend to be a major drug user and write a memoir… oh, no, wait, that’s been done.
May 16th, 2008 4:40 pm
How much did I win?
May 16th, 2008 4:56 pm
A million dollhairs.
Goofball.
May 16th, 2008 6:21 pm
I do that in real life.
I am in a bit of a quandry on whether to meet people from online. It would mean a LOT of travel on my part and then there is the whole teenage children do as I do thing.
May 16th, 2008 6:56 pm
I know, huh? I met this guy after just reading his blog, right — the thought actually crossed my mind that if I show up at the airport and he doesn’t have an actual child with him then I won’t give him a ride. As in, he could be just anybody pretending to be a dad.
Gotta go with your gut, I guess. For me, carrying a toddler is like your badge of authenticity.
May 16th, 2008 8:15 pm
Dude, BlogHer does SO count. I’m already scared of having to be the non-introvert. I’m worried that the only way I’ll know how to talk to people at the conference is through AIM/iChat!
May 16th, 2008 8:28 pm
Xbox directed me here so send him a piece of the action from the next stage which is book deals!
May 16th, 2008 11:02 pm
Dood, you can totally have some of my pretzels and orange slices.
I took the kid to Fisherman’s Wharf today, you know, because it was so nice and cool up in the City today. And then, remembering your ascension of the Presidio the other day I said to myself “Self, that there up there is Coit Tower. Let’s go see that sucker and not feel like such a slacker for keeping the new backpack on the floor for a week and a half.” So we did the march up the hill to Coit Tower, and it was only , what 95 degrees there? And then when I got to the tower I was actually hoping to climb stairs all the way to the top, just to feel all manly. But they made everyone take the elevator, so I am once again a slacker.
It’s just not tough and manly to say “I went for a hike and let an elevator operator push the button that got me to the top of the tower.”
You guys win.
May 18th, 2008 12:39 pm
Thanks, you just made me miss San Francisco all over again. I thought was over it, like 11:30 last night I finally said, Mississippi ain’t so bad.
As far as Las Veags is concerned, YOU HAVE NO IDEA!
May 19th, 2008 4:47 pm
How long (and how long ago) were you here?
May 22nd, 2008 2:42 pm
I’ve met bloggers before, but never has one come to pick me up from the airport, saving me $45 in cab fares. For that, you are officially my Favorite Blogger of All Time.
It was great meeting you — hope to do it again soon. Ronen had a great time, too.
May 23rd, 2008 4:23 pm
Aw, no problem. I’m guessing, though, that the cab wouldn’t have gotten lost.
Or maybe it would have — better fares, you know!