There are lots of things I could write about today. My kids have done/said some funny things this week, which I want to document and share at some point. The fact that it seems like my house is going to be the party house at Christmas. Seriously, we keep telling more people they can stay. Where, I don’t know, but I’ll find them all floor space. I could tell you about my fear of today, my fears about marriage counseling, my fear that it is worse than I said, worse than I even know.

However, I can’t stop thinking about Anissa long enough, to tell any of that to you. Which may be a good thing. I went to bed last night thinking about Anissa and I woke up this morning just praying for some good news. It took a few hours, but there has been an update. Each time there is an update, my heart speeds up for a minute or two. My stomach drops. It is scary to click over and see what it is, but I can’t seem to do it fast enough. Anyway, you probably all know this already.

I am not sure how exactly I found Anissa’s blog. I actually found her blog before I friended her on Twitter.  I’m sure it was through AMomTwoBoys or Mamaspohr somehow. It doesn’t really matter. I know I’m been reading over there (first at her old blog and then the new one) for about a year. I *may* have read a ton of her archives, before I ever even bothered to say hi. What? Stalkers can be cool right? Right? It was on Twitter where we started talking. I am a smart ass, she is a funnier smart ass. The woman cracks me up. Almost every single tweet she writes is funny. No joke.

When I was thinking about who I wanted to meet at BlogHer, Anissa was high on that list. She is friendly, funny and super freaking cool. The kind of girl you hope will say hi to you. I wasn’t sure I’d get the chance too, seeing how I knew how many people wanted to meet her. I also knew she was doing more extra things than anyone could have possibly had time for.

I got lucky. The first person I saw when I got to the hotel was her. Heck, I hadn’t even made it in the door of the lobby when I saw her. I was showing up and she was about to leave on some adventure. I knew she’d have no idea who I was if I didn’t say something, so I did. I went and introduced myself and got the biggest bewb hug in return for it. She has no idea of any of this, but in that moment, as I had ridden to the hotel I thought I’d made a huge mistake in going. I wanted to turn around and go home. Hugging Anissa and having her tell me she was thrilled to meet me, made me think, dam I can do this. I will be okay here, I CAN do this. I saw her a few more times, but we only talked for a few minutes here and there. Each time her voice sounded scratchier and hoarser. By the end of the weekend, I told her she sounded like the smoker sisters on The Simpsons.

Every time I log into Gmail, I see her name. On the sidebar, it shows who is online to chat. I don’t think Anissa had logged out, because her name has been there for the last two days. Anissa Mayhew it says. Underneath her name it says, jumping the shark. It shows a orange dot, which is generally the I am not here, but am logged in, color dot. Yesterday it made me sad. I had the fight the urge to click on it and say hi all day. Today it’s comforting. She is there, in my Gmail. Her name is there. She may not be there now, she may not be there for a long time. But she’s there in my heart. That is a sign, at least to me.

Anissa, I miss seeing your tweets. I’d give anything to have you show up, so I can make stupid jokes about it being Eat Moar Kittehs Friday tomorrow. Keep fighting sweetie. We’re all here pulling for you. Praying for you. Loving you.