Between "A" and "B", I got distracted

with Dave and Dorian Rhodes in San Francisco

Our trip to California was something that had been in the back of my mind for years. Not so much that I wanted to visit California but that I wanted to meet in person some people whose friendship I've cultivated over a long time, and who were among the many bloggers I've long wanted to have coffee with.  

Not all of my blogging friends live in California, by a long shot, but WestJet doesn't fly everywhere, and retired middle-class folk can't be jaunting off all over.  Besides I have family in Los Angeles and I knew that even though we hadn't seen each other in years, it would be like yesterday, once we got over the mutual grey hair.

Dave with Fran

It's a phenomenon I haven't talked much about, but actually meeting my blogging and Facebook friends has been an amazing experience each time it's happened.  I know that caution is often spoken of as necessary with internet contacts, but "internet contacts" certainly doesn't describe the people who've consoled me, shared music with me, made me laugh, made me cry and generously, and usually humourously, have shared their lives with me.  They've admired Dave, my children, my grandchildren and my cat.  They've put up with my occasional political rants and the photos of my favourite shoes, so I shouldn't be surprised at how easily we expanded our virtual friendship into something strong and, I think, mutually delightful.

So this post isn't really about our trip to California.  It's really about how that trip cemented for me that feeling that my friends are my friends and that my blogging/Facebook friends are my friends that I don't see enough of.

Of course, the fact that I don't see enough of my family and my local, touchable friends comes in there somewhere too.  I'm so busy being lucky that I can barely see the risk in spreading myself thin.  And don't make too much of the "thin" thing.