Minnesota in the morning

The Internet has done many mean things to me. It has publicized an unfortunate photograph of eyeless me in a sunhat; it has turned me into an Etsy addict (but isn't this cute? At least I will be a well-dressed Etsy addict); it has, via webmail, caused me to hit "Reply All" when I ought not to have (I didn't like that job anyhow) (and he was a bastard) (and he basically had it coming) (but I am sorry about his wife being pregnant with the quads at the time); it has caused me to spend sad amounts of time obliterating jewel-toned stars in an attempt to I forget what but it really seems really important at the time. You know the story.

But the Internet has done at least one lovely thing for me: it has found me the very greatest friend. Who is a decade younger than me, lives in a different country, and over whom I tower, particularly in the orange platform heels I cannot wait to show her tomorrow. She is the finest munchkin bestie in tap shoes that a girl could ever have. We met in the chat room of a Swedish blog (thanks, Emi!) and instantly bonded over  almost everything, from Edward Gorey to Opi "Mermaid to Order" nail polish to taxidermy to interesting metaphors about rolled up microwaved cheese quesadillas (don't ask). In the last few years, we've had a first date in Los Angeles--and neither of us was a serial killer! Yay!--and even our ridiculous husbands got along; then a birthday trip to Calgary (it snowed);  a family vacation lakeside in Idaho (there were margaritas); and a writers' conference in the far suburbs of Vancouver (there were no omelettes). And tomorrow I get to go to Minnesota! I have been promised gin, backyard toad lesbians (really), no hikes, lots of floppy-hat and sunglasses events, a French dinner and four different ice cream parlours except without the "u." I hear there is a bomb shelter. I KNOW.

Thank you, universe, for the Internet.
See you tomorrow, Grits!