I had the privilege tonight of talking to Rose (did we really talk for an hour?!?!) We've been talking about talking for a while now, but here's the thing...

I'm so shy, I'm almost backwards. It's one thing to post these entries, when I can write and edit and write some more, and make sure it's just so and perfect before it gets thrown out there for the world to see. It's another matter altogether, though, to speak to someone face-to-face, or phone-to-phone, where there's no delete button, or backspace key, and when stopping to collect a thought might come across as an awkward pause in conversation. I agonized all afternoon, as the husband and I finished the Christmas shopping, about whether or not I should call. I drove him insane chattering on and on about it, but he just kept calmly responding 'What's the big deal? Just call her when we get home.'

So I picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed. It might sound silly, but for me, calling someone who for all purposes is a stranger is like bungee jumping, or pushing the speedometer needle of my car up past 75 mph, or driving through the bad part of town. I'm not a risk taker at all, and I don't make friends easily because I'm just not that comfortable with myself. I don't like to draw attention to myself. I like to fly under the radar if at all possible.

I don't say these things to pump myself up, or to make it sound as if Rose should feel lucky and grateful that I deigned to spend an hour of my evening with her. Not at all.

When we said our goodbyes, I couldn't believe that we'd talked for just over an hour. Forgive me for sounding cliche, but we both agreed that it was like starting a conversation in the middle. I didn't feel awkward at all, which is really saying something for me. It was, I thought, a great conversation; one that was long overdue.

And I hope it won't be the last one.

So thanks, Rose. The first thing the husband said when I hung up the phone was 'See, I told you it would be fine.' I hate it when he knows he's right about something. I hope you had a good time dancing tonight. I hope when you got home, there wasn't a message waiting from the Va Va Voom, calling you into work for tomorrow morning. And if there was, and you go, I hope the patrons are kind. I hope the last vestiges of your cold are gone soon. I hope Santa leaves those thigh-high boots under the tree (I give you tremendous credit for having the chutzpah, and the balance, to be able to walk in those!).

I'm giving serious thought now to replacing my treadmill with a stationary bike (As a start. My ass will have to be considerably smaller before you see me out on the trail!). I'll let you know how that turns out.