Mister has been making noises lately about wanting to see my blog. Up until very recently he hasn't seemed to bother about it one way or the other. But clearly, something has piqued his interest, and now he wants to know just what it is exactly that I get up to here.
There have been questions:
"So, what? You just write stuff? And people, what? Read it and stuff?"
"Yeah. Basically."
"What do you write about?"
"Stuff."
He audibly exhales through his nose. I graciously opt to throw him a bone, "The kids mostly."
"Me?" There is a wistful, breathy catch in his throat. I'm almost postitive he wants the answer to be yes.
But, "No."
"Oh."
"Welllll..." It seems I have one more bone in my cupboard, "There was the one time. But you were being a dip shit about the rain pants. Probably you wouldn't see the humor in it."
"Oh." Not the bone he was hoping for, apparently.
Time passes. Just when I think the subject has been forgotten, he says, "So how do I get to this blog of yours?"
"What do you mean?"
"What's it called?"
"You wouldn't get it."
He squints and purses his lips. He wants to be angry, but he also wants information. So I watch as he calms himself and steels his nerves against my stubborn pig-headedness. All the while he's hedging around with these pokey little questions, I'm silently debating with myself whether or not I really want him here. I've just about decided not.
"You call yourself JEDA, right?"
I'm genuinely impressed he's managed to pick up on that much, "Yes."
"What do you call the kids?"
I get distracted by this last question and I begin to think he might actually be interested in...I don't know...the tone? the voice? the identity? I've created for myself here. So I start telling him all about Elder Miss, and Boy, and how Little Miss is mostly just Missy. How I arrived at JEDA, and why I find it so liberating to write behind these anonymous monikers even though 98% of the people who read me know perfectly well who I am and what my kids answer to. And blah blah blah, maybe he really would get the joke in the title.
Then it dawns on me that all the while I've been chattering away at him, he's been pulling out, plugging in, and booting up his laptop. The clever bastard has been gleaning information for a Google search!
Jokes on him though. Ha! Google couldn't find me. Turns out JEDA is an outrageously common acronym in the business world (something about jobs-economic development and joint environmental analysis yada yada yada) as well as a fairly common word in several European languages. Seems I'm safely buried within the vast haystack of the ca. 32 700 other hits for JEDA. He gave up after just 20 minutes of searching.
Part of me kind of wishes he would keep tyring though. Make a more determined effort to hunt me down, and surprise me with a comment in the busy body gallery. If he reads carefully, he might even learn something new about me. I'm not sure what. But something. Tips for the perfect Christmas gift, maybe? Ipod Advice on how to be a better lover, perhaps? More breast action My unguarded and inner most thoughts regarding his manhood, even? Nice enough guy. Shame about the car though..... Oh for Chirst's sake!!! Not that manhood!!!! It's fine Pull your collective heads out of the gutter! Grab my shoes on the way out, will ya'? This is my husband, my partner, the father of my children probably we're talking about! He deserves a bit more respect than that!
Now everyone play nice, and make him feel at home. And talk me up a bit. He's going to be mad after reading this.....
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