It seemed harmless enough. Meet up with some people, have dinner together, and share a beverage or two. That was the way I explained it to Ken when I considered going to meet up with Chicago bloggers after attending another graduation party on the eastern part of Illinois.

It just makes sense to drive several hundred miles around Illinois to party, right?

If you’re meeting the fabulous group I met with on Saturday night, well… then the answer is a simple and emphatic YES. First, I met up with Steve and Susan at the Printer’s Row Bookfair and it felt much like it was a blind date because I had no idea what they looked like and had to wait until they identified me. We got to sit down outdoors at Starbucks because it’s required to do such a thing with me.

Later, we met up with several other Chicago bloggers and two who are honorary Chicagoans because they traveled all the way there to meet everyone. Amazingly enough, we were easily comfortable with one another and had a wonderful time with lots of laughs and blog-talk. In fact, after having pizza at Piece we decided the night wasn’t really through and went to a tequila bar.

I highly recommend going to a tequila bar with perfect strangers who you have to convince your husband wouldn’t murder you after meeting you.

It’s cliche by now, but every time you say you’re meeting someone from the internet the standard response is, “But what if they’re psychotic or something? What if they murder you?”

Well, I guess I won’t be blogging about the meeting then.

There are plenty of pictures on the sites of my new friends, none of which are psychotic, which you can check out as well as these on flickr.

Should you be wondering what kind of people wouldn’t murder me upon meeting me, then go see the following fabulous folks:

• Jen
• RW
• Ariana
• Dave
• Gary
• Steve
• Susan
• Kevin

Sometimes I get all random with my thoughts and have to do a list instead of trying to write cohesive syntax. Even using that word “random” gets my panties in a bunch because it is overused to the point of ickiness which makes me even more random arbitrary.

Consider yourself advised that the train in my brain is running through stops, pulling the whistle chain recklessly, and will take a while to get to the connections. Or just think of this as a non-drunk Drunk Post, ok?

• Leadership Ethics class will be really good because the deep, philosophical stuff started right away from our professor who lets us call her Amee. She looks like an Amee, all cute and intelligent and funny and sorta kinda hippy-like. It’s a long class that begins right after school (when I’m downright ravenous) and goes until 8:00 p.m. To get class started she began by saying, ” Ok. Let’s get started and begin with the important things first: what’s the deal with dinner?” We felt at ease and laughed because we always have to ask for a break. I shouted, “Oh, my God! I love her already!”
• Later, Amee asked us what was so hard about last semester (she had, apparently, heard) and what statistics class did we take? “Death by Statistics” I retorted. Again with the laughter. Do I need to enroll in Clown College or what?
• All the department chairs for Language Arts got together FOR TWO DIFFICULT DAYS OF ARGUING and I was, thankfully, placed with my two friends Angie and Angie. Confusing, yes. So let’s call one of them “Spanky” for differentiation. Angie told Spanky about my blog and at first she said, “What? A blog? You do what?” and then called me weird. Of course, she read it for the past two days and is now wondering WHY I HAVEN’T MENTIONED HER ON MY BLOG. There ya go, Spanky.
• My school went on a field trip today and so did Mason’s school and there was endless teasing of I’m-not-going-to-acknowledge-you-Mom from him, but that darling son of mine actually waved to me when he saw me. That goes against the logic of the 14-year-old angst-ridden teenager and I was flabbergasted. Then, he told me he forgot his lunch so I gave him mine. Not just because he didn’t treat me like a leper, either.
• One of the girls from Mason’s school came to sit with one of the girls from my school to eat and when I walked by the two of them one of the teachers called me over to ask a question. On my way back the girl stopped me and said, “You’re a teacher? I thought you were one of the kids!” I’m going to buy her a pony.
I take that back. There really was no logic in my brain, just swirling thoughts. Spanky will commence to thinking I’m weird again.