So, you know Dooce (and, as I once memorably read somewhere, if you don’t, you’re my mother, so please call me, I want to talk to you). Well, I read Dooce and once I got a reply to an email from her and I kept it in my inbox for ages even though I normally delete email so fast that I find myself rooting around in deleted items for flight confirmations. I’ve never been a fan of anyone before (no interest in musicians, no particular interest in authors, only their output, little interest in the private lives of actors or other random famous people), but I am now. It is disconcerting.
Anyhow, a while ago, she said that she had seen herself as one of the five top bloggers in the Observer and she was pleased. I deduced that, what with living in Salt Lake City and that, she did not have a copy of the Observer in her sweaty little paw as I did. So, I decided to send her my copy of the Observer magazine in an attempt to win her heart. This is the kind of thing fans do.
Mr. Waffle and I went to the post office together (the family that posts together stays together or something like that). We had the following conversation.
Mr. Waffle: What’s this?
Me (embarrassed): It’s the Observer for Dooce [insert explanation re bloggers article] – she said she was interested.
Him : That’s nice, she emailed and asked if you’d post it and you’re sending it to her.
Me (failing to explain that I’ve only ever had the one email and, in fact, this is an entirely unsolicited and, perhaps, slightly creepy act of goodwill); Mmm.
Post office lady weighing the envelope: That will be 9 euros.
Me and him (yelping): 9 Euros!
Post office lady (apologetically): It’s a non-standard size.
Him: Could we sellotape over the edge?
Her: Well, you used to be able to do that but now they don’t accept that, it’s the European norm.
Me: Could we buy a standard size envelope here?
Her (apologetically) : No, the envelopes we have on sale are not standard European size.[I am not making this up].
My lovely husband: Feck it, we’ll send it anyway, go on, I’ll pay for it.
All I can say is, I hope that when I find out her address and we go to visit her in Salt Lake City, she will put us all up. Do you think that she’s scared?
