I'm not one who gets completely awestruck over celebrities or who gets all flustered around public figures. I'm not easily intimidated. You pretty much have to deal with the real me no matter who you are. I call it like I see it, and I will usually say exactly what's on my mind to whoever happens to be there at the time. Granted, that's not always a good thing. I'm kind of shocked I've made it this far in life without having my mouth (or my little typing fingers) get me into serious trouble. I seem to be missing that filter between my brain and my mouth that turns my exact thoughts into something a little more appropriate for the situation at hand before speaking. Just last week I told the entire department (including my unsuspecting male boss) that the underwire popped in my bra and I was being stabbed in delicate, private places. I easily could have just excused myself, saying that I needed to "take care of something." But where's the fun in that?!? I'm all about the shock factor. ;-) To be honest, censoring myself didn't even occur to me until after his jaw hit the floor, his face turned all red, and he started trying to look everywhere except at my chest. And at that point, I was getting such amusement at his expense that there was no way I would have changed it! Bad, Tammy! ;-)
I mention all of this because my reaction to something that happened earlier this week was completely out of character for me and caught me totally off-guard. I logged in the morning after I wrote my latest Random Rambling expanding on my great love of the highlighter and saw that I had some comments to post. That, of course, made me happy. I love comments. After all, what is a blog other than a shameless plea for comments, really? Yeah, yeah... It's a creative outlet for divulging one's innermost thoughts and feelings. Blah, blah, blah... But I like the comments. They give me the warm-fuzzies and make me feel special and important. :-)
My completely out of character, star-struck, crazy reaction came when I saw that I had a comment from "Foster Mama." My heart skipped a beat! NO WAY!!! Surely not the "Foster Mama!" Not "Foster Mama" from Postcards from Insanity "Foster Mama?!?" A friend of mine suggested her blog when I started this whole foster/adopt journey, and I love it! This woman writes the most hilarious stuff I've ever read (not to mention has some great insights and experience in the foster care arena). She's got nearly 79,000 hits on her blog. I clicked on the profile, and sure enough it was her!!! My heart started racing... My hands got all cold and clammy... I nearly started hyperventilating... Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness! "Foster Mama" read my post! "Foster Mama" even liked my post!
After I calmed myself down and my heart rate normalized, I sat in total dismay at my completely ridiculous reaction. Soooo not like me! But for a person who has always secretly desired to make a career out of writing witty emails and short stories, a compliment from "Foster Mama" was like a compliment from Celine Dion to an aspiring singer or one from Angelina Jolie to an aspiring actress. It's official. Just call me a "Foster Mama" groupie, but her comment just made my day! :-)
(P.S. - If you like my sarcastic sense of humor, you'll love "Foster Mama" too. Check out her blog if you want more laughs.)