“Your people are not my people,” she said after she pulled her favorite mug off the shelf, after I told her this favorite mug probably wouldn’t work for what I had in mind. Knowing the photograph would go on my blog, she spoke of my readers, tongue in cheek, shaking her head (though she is one). Your people are not my people. She returned the terracotta mug, shaped like a short, stout man, with strange features and an enormous belly. “If I had a blog, I would put him on it,” she insisted knowing that this little mug-man would not work with my aesthetic.
“Oh, are you taking photos for your blog?” her husband asked, drawing out the word.
These people, with their sarcasm and the mug-man they drink their coffee from, they are my people. They are supportive and irreverent. They love me like they love that ugly brown mug–just the way I am. And you, reading this. You are my people too. We pray for each other and we laugh at each other (or is it with? I can never decide).
We picked a different mug, one more pleasing to the eye, and I use that phrase irreverently because this blog business? It is kind of funny. I visited friends, had great brunch while feeding their baby at his high chair, and in between running around chasing him we took this photo. It’s serene, right? The morning wasn’t tranquil and I loved every moment, especially the baby giggles.
If you saw my instagram, there was a picture of brunch. What you missed was her husband, cooking my omelet with the avocado inside and the cheese on top and my friend and I trying not to laugh because he did go to the trouble.
“Oh, are you going to instagram that for your blog?” he asked, speaking of the breakfast. Secretly, my friend and I think he wants to be featured here. We actually don’t think that but we say that to him so he rolls his eyes. I love people who roll their eyes. It means we will probably get along.
“No,” I told him, laughing.
When he left the room, I told my friend that I actually had to instagram it because someone had asked me what I was doing now (#widn). So I had to, you know? And my friend laughed and I laughed too. Because I also had to stand on the chair to get the perfectly imperfect photograph.
This thing some of us do–blogging? Sharing pieces of our life, sharing advice on how to be better at it, busting our butts with full time jobs or taking care of kids? It’s weird and I have to lean into the weirdness and admit it’s there because I am irreverent and laughing is as important as the occasional eye roll. You see parts of my life but not the whole.
You see a photograph of a mug that matches nail polish instead of my favorite mug. You don’t know, unless I tell you, that I actually don’t have a favorite mug because it chipped in the dishwasher the year after I graduated college. I spend hours writing down idea after idea, trying to be original and produce the best content so people want to keep on reading these words I write, and the pictures I take. And because I kind of love it too. I love being creative. So I laugh and roll my eyes because this is a place where I just get to be creative and that is…that is a gift.
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