Starstruck!

Apologies in advance, Wellheeled, if this makes you blush! But this just goes to show how awesome you are!

Yesterday I was reading through my Google Reader and one of the bloggers that I have been following since I first had an RSS reader (and even a little beforehand) had written what I considered an excellent article. I'd lurked on her blog for the longest time but I'm a big fan of letting people know when they have blown me away with their truth and honesty and felt I had to comment.

I got back to work and later that afternoon I looked at my gmail... Wellheeled had commented on my page? NO.FREAKING.WAY! And she liked my blog?? It was like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy had all shown up on my desk and invited me to a party. I struggle to explain it but when someone that you have admired for so long thinks that you are worth admiring... crazy wonderful. I know that Miss Corrine experienced this recently when Lady Melbourne commented on her blog. It's a hyper-validation of what you do.
The hilarious thing is this. You know Well-heeled? She's just a person. Like you, like me (albeit extraordinarily good at saving) - as the saying goes, she hops into her pants one leg at a time. It's the interesting thing about the blogosphere. You can anonymously read people's blogs and be excited and amazed by them, building up to this superhuman status when they are really normal people. I'm pretty sure if I saw Gala Darling in the street I would pass out, but while she's a spectacular specimen of a human being, she's still a human being.

I'm still pretty much gobsmacked whenever anyone comments on my blog to be perfectly honest... I clasp my hands to my chest and think "They like me, they really, really like me!". So comment if the feeling inspires you! I love to hear it.

Sometimes this happens in real life too... I leave you with this story...

My dad has worked in the same company pretty much all his adult life. As part of his roles over the past fifteen years, he's liaised with the CEO of a company in Germany (we'll call him Arnie). Arnie would come over every year and take my dad, some colleagues and their wives out for dinner. My parents would gussy themselves up and head out for dinner in some of Auckland's finest restaurants. We'd wake up in the morning and the parents would show us the gorgeous gifts that Arnie had brought, which always included something beautiful for my mother (expensive perfume, fine china, etc). Arnie would call our home about every three months and my parents would laugh and joke away over long-distance, even talking about what we were up to at school. Needless to say, Arnie became a Santa Claus figment in mine and my sister's eyes... someone who came and brought our parents wonderful presents.

About five years ago, Arnie came on his annual visit. My youngest sister was very sick and my mum couldn't go out to dinner! As Arnie had brought his daughter on this trip, Dad asked me whether I would like to take Mum's place at the dinner. Would I?? Even at eighteen, and supposedly worldly, I would have chewed my right arm off (and that's the one I write with) to be allowed to go. I dressed up in the prettiest clothes I owned, and went out to this beautiful restaurant in Parnell, so flash that I didn't even have to open the door to the restroom (the wait staff move swiftly to ensure you don't have to lift a finger). And I met Arnie. Who was a wonderful, friendly guy, but it was a little like meeting the Easter Bunny in the flesh. I was a little bit starstruck and needed a chocolate martini to calm my nerves. By the end of the night we were chatting away like old buddies! And to this day, Sister#1 is hideously jealous that I got to meet Arnie, because he's still Santa Claus to her.