Miss Marianne and the Missed Memories, eh?

Three leaves

Please!

Please!

Help a challenged woman with her memory issues.

Here’s the deal, regular readers.

At 11 a.m. EST the phone shall ring and I will talk with a dear blogging friend for the first time.

Her name is Marianne and she writes a lovely blog called Grandeurvision:  A woman’s journey to find meaning in life.  I’ve been reading Marianne’s blog–and she’s been reading mine–for a long time.  A year?  Two?  Three?

Three birds

We feel like friends, even though we’ve never met or talked on the phone.  Until today.  11 a.m. EST.

Marianne hasn’t always had the easiest of times.  She has rheumatoid arthritis and struggles to keep an even keel with this autoimmune disease.  Seven months ago she ended up in the hospital, perhaps with Death at her doorstep.  Please visit In the End, Only Love Matters to read her story about what she learned.

And learn is something Marianne does with everything that happens to her.  I’ve watched her turn challenging situations into love dozens upon dozens of times in the last few years.

She seeks to grow spiritually, to heal, to live fully.

She’s an inspiration to those of us who know and love her.

I’ve so enjoyed knowing that she exists in the Universe.

She’s a special person indeed.

Wish I could remember where I took this picture in April 2010...

Here’s where MY challenges come in.

Before the phone call I decided to sit on Marianne’s blog hearth and re-read some of her lovely inspirational posts.  When suddenly it hit like a ton of bricks against this dim-witted forehead:  I haven’t even added Marianne’s blog to my blog roll!  Oh, Kathy.  Shame, shame, shame.  Where is your head?  How could you do this to a blogging friend for all these years?

And not only that, sigh, not only that.

I recently discovered several long-read blogging friends whose blogs have not been added.  Including Sybil from Eastern Passage Passage over there in Nova Scotia.  Just discovered that omission last weekend and apologized profusely for six hours. (OK, at least one long paragraph of sorry babbling.)

From a Duluth, MN, museum! Orange-utan...ha ha ha ha...

So here’s the scoop.

If you are a regular commenter on this blog and we regularly read one another’s blog–and you are not on my blog roll–please feel free to knock me alongside this forgetful head (OK, offer a gentle reminder along with a virtual hug) to add your blog to this blogroll RIGHT NOW, Kathy, and don’t wait until three summers from now when your memory kicks into gear.  (That is the most convoluted sentence I’ve ever written but I already adore it and will not change it to make it more readable and please tell all your internal editors to just grin & bear it and not to snap their editing pencil between their teeth in frustration.)

Let’s make it simpler.

1)  You are a regular reader of Lake Superior Spirit for more than 2-3 months.  You comment.  (Sorry, you non-commenters.  I actually use the comments to track all my blogging buddies.)

2)  I am a regular reader of your blog.

3)  Write a comment beneath this blog gently reminding of the omission.  You are allowed to whine, fuss and carry on for three paragraphs.  Anything longer than that–how ’bout an email?

See Canada over there? See it? You can't?

Another memory issue that arises–I can’t remember where Marianne lives.  I am thinking Canada, but that might be six countries off.  If Marianne does live in Canada, as well as Sybil from Nova Scotia, maybe I have an unconscious blog roll forgetfulness about Canadians?  Oh no!  That could not be so.  Let’s hope not.  Let’s see if any more Canadians come forth.

Canada, you know, is on the other side of Lake Superior.  If you travel down to the lake shore and stretch your eyes north, you can imagine northern Ontario’s craggy rocks on the far shore.  I have nothing against Canadians.  A few of my friends are from this fair land.  Hi Nicole!  Hi Amy-Lynn!  Hi Dana!  Hi Terrill!  Hi everyone Memory has forgotten!

Sometimes Canadian folks end their sentences in “eh?”  (Sometimes we Upper Peninsula residents end our sentences in “eh” too.)  That’s how we know we’re related.

They say things like, “What’s the weather like today, eh?”

And we say things like, “Nice day, eh?”

Our son Christopher (you officially met him and his entire life history here, poor lad) once arrived home wearing a tee-shirt that said, “U.S.Eh.”

I laughed for six hours.

Laughed so long that he bought an identical t-shirt for his dad the following Christmas.  (Later postscript:  I am now wearing the aforementioned t-shirt in honor of Canada, Marianne and blogging, not necessarily in that order.  With a long-sleeved shirt underneath, in case any of you suddenly became worried that Kathy would freeze in a t-shirt.)

Gosh, it may prove embarrassing if Marianne is from southern Texas and I’ve rambled on and on about Canadians in this blog.

Can’t wait until 11 a.m.!

And do stop by and meet her.  (And Sybil.  And all the others I’ve recently added to my blogroll, except I can’t remember who.)  You will NOT be disappointed!