This Post Contains Necessary Information That Will Make You Cry So I'd Recommend You Skip That Part But The Post May Be Confusing If You Do So Perhaps I Should Just Say (In My Best Pretending To Be British Accent Which Isn't Very Good) Stiff Upper Lip And All That Cheerio My Good Buddy Wearing Bobbie Socks. As They Say, Even In The UK, On PinINterest: Nailed It!

Lately, I've been tucking my brain away into a world consisting of wizards hunting horcruxes, terminally ill senior citizens driving Route 66 in their RV and a homebody named Pat who lives in a house named Silver Bush on Prince Edward Island. (The fake psychologist in me is having a field day.) But, this morning, while on my second third fourth third-ish cup of coffee Ellie took herself up to her bedroom and put herself down for a nap.  Completely unencouraged.  And, I looked left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, and over my shoulder a zillion times (Because of the coffee. Obviously.) and realized I was all by myself.  Katie has left for school.  Jon has taken himself to work.  And it's just me and a dwindling supply of coffee in the kitchen.  And I realized, I should probably tell a story on my neglected blog. A riveting story! A heart warming story! A story to make you cry! A story to make you realize how much you love your family! Friends! Pet iguana! But, maybe I'll save that for a different personality in a parallel  life line and write about meeting famous people on their bicycles instead.

Yeah.  I think I'll do the bike one.

Necessary Back Story Type Information You Need In Order To Understand The Fore Story That I Don't Want To Dwell On Because It Makes Me Sad. And Lonely. And Causes My Mind To Trail Off Into A Well Written Book With Strong Plot Lines And Characterization:

We used to live in one town in the Pacific Northwest.  Two weeks ago we moved across the Sound into a neighborhood in Seattle.  None of my friends wanted to be packed in boxes (even when I told them I'd line the boxes with plenty of cushy Styrofoam peanuts) so I had to leave them behind. Sometimes, as the late summer sun sinks below the horizon, I walk outside my new house, in my new neighborhood, turn slightly to the west and wave a sad little wave in their general direction while a single lonely tear wanders in a wanderly type fashion down my russet apple cheek.  (Related Note: LM Montgomery is a genius. Sad writing is hard.)   

The Fore Story That Contains Less Crying:

So, as you know we recently moved ourselves over to the Big City! The City That Never Sleeps Because Of Caffeine Overload! The Emerald City Of Constant Rain and Humidity! The city, by the way, where, apparently, famous people live.  Who I don't recognize. Because, well, if you've been reading this blog for any length of time completely understand why.  For those of you new here, I direct you to the Hair Stylist Episode.

Me: (leading Mabel and Belinda on a walk around my new neighborhood, not because I kidnapped them and taped them into extra large packing boxes with a cushy amount of Styrofoam peanuts, a few bottles of water and some Cliff Bars. And most importantly, hygienic wise, a chamber pot. But because they came to visit. And because they're scrappy fighters.) The park is over there and we should (turning in circles, noticing man on bike checking his cell phone, ignoring man on bike) take a right at the corner.

Belinda: (half a block from said corner) Dude. That guy looked like Dave Mathews!

Mabel: He did! I thought he looked familiar!

Me: He's supposed to live in Seattle around here somewhere.

Belinda: (looking at me with her "Is that a load of tut-tut?" stare) Did you make that up?

Me: (pretending to be insulted, because, really, she has a point) NooOOOoo.

Belinda: (pulling out her phone to check my truthability)

Me: So, is he the guy that plays the harmonica?

Mabel: What!?

Me: You know.  The overweight guy, I mean, rock star, whatever, who plays the harmonica? Isn't that Dave Mathews? Because that guy was not overweight.

Mabel and Belinda: (staring at me with their, "She did not just say that look" which usually means I've kerfuffled, again, in the pop culture category of knowledge)

Mabel: (with a well practiced sigh) That's  the lead singer from Blues Traveler. I can not believe you mixed the two of those up!

And they alternately giggled at me and checked their phones for information on Dave Mathews whereabouts for the rest of the walk back to my house.

So, ten minutes of research and a found article on Wikipedia later I've decided that if, while exploring my new neighborhood coffee shops, grocery stores and parks you introduce yourself as:

Zaid, Dustin, Sherman, Jeff, Harry, Brian, Fred, Anomie, Christopher, David, Terry, Mike, Robert, Ed, Peter, Charles, Matt, Dyan, Neko, JR, Michael, Dale, Nick, Kathryn, Cameron, Chris, Jim, Mark, Rob, Anna, Brendan, Neile, Nicola, Caren, Gary, Leland, Matt, Jerick/Jinkx, Jenni, Tom, Jane, Russel, Quincy, ST, Michael, Sascha, Jon, Jayne, Gary, Jason, Kyle, Jim, Rose, Joel, Patrick, Marni, Krist, Bill, Yuki, Susan, Jonathan, John, Ron, Gary, Don, Ryan, Ann, Bill, Dan, Howard, Ross, Tom, Alex, Neal, Mack, Ichiro, Robert, Geoff, Lauren, Earnest, Eddie, March, Jim or Dave

I will, surreptitiously because I respect your right to famous anonymity, take a pic of you with my phone and post it to Twitter with the hashtag #MeetingFamousPeopleAllOverSeattle! Because, according to mathematical probability and an infinite amount of monkeys on typewriters, I'm bound to be right sometime.

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