The woman who says she only does one thing well, and that's fold grocery store bags properly for later use and then she meticulously demo's how? Or the woman who says she doesn't do anything well at all and she swoops all the air out of the bags, folds them in half, folds them in half again and stuffs them in the drawer?
The woman who teaches high school kids to appreciate art and then teaches them to make art? Or the woman who rolls up her pant legs and wades in the irrigation ditch?
The woman who laughs at everything and nothing? Or the woman whose life didn't go as planned and laughs while telling you what's wrong with your children?
The woman who can't think of anything to blog about so she makes something up? Or the woman who can't think of anything to blog about so she spares the world and doesn't blog?
The woman who buys a Harley at age 60, buys a sailboat and plans to live on it? Or the woman who meditates and rides an imaginary Harley, goes imaginary sky diving, and learns to imaginary sail? (The poor sap)
The woman who says, "Isn't that fun?" about EVERYTHING? Or the woman who says, "Show me the fun in that!" and then laughs anyway because she doesn't know what else to do?
The woman who was a player in high school and is now remorseful, regretful, afraid of everyone and everything? Or the woman who writes about the player, gives her power, and makes her the hero?
The woman whose family isn't perfect and she loves them to bits anyway? Or the woman whose family isn't perfect and so she tells you about the successful ones?
The woman who reads other people's blogs and thinks to herself Whoa, those women are amazing? Or the woman who says, "What's a blog?"
The woman who says she's one of your best friends and then stabs you in the back or the poor sap who can't get over it?
The woman who says hot dogs have nitrates and are bad for you and will kill you dead and will probably make your complexion look bad in your coffin? Or the woman who says, "J-Dawgs? Did you say J-Dawgs?" and she fumbles in her purse for three dollars.
The woman who goes to bed at 4:00 a.m. because she's rewriting a chapter for a dumb book? Or the one who goes to bed at a reasonable hour and is perfect. (And besides that, the chapter failed on SO many levels.)
I can't decide. I've lost track of most of the women who do or don't do these things and I am the other one. Will you be my best friend even if I'm flawed, childish, wade in ditches, love my family to bits, and most of the time, have no life?
And would you forgive the woman who had nothing to say and blogged anyway?