As I’m getting ready to leave for the other side of the world (this was scheduled the day before I left) and thinking about how LONG I’ll be away – and as I get teary eyed over the thought of missing my family – I get this guest post from The Coast Rat. You know – Coast Rat – who picked up and moved south to the coast of Mississippi for 3 years to help rebuild after Hurricane Katrina caused such devastation. Three years away from his wife and home. You can read his stories on his blog AFTER you read this memory of a favorite story here.

It is a distinct privilege to provide this guest post for my friend Ree – The Hotfessional, during her well-earned travel absence from the U.S. during December 2009. Have a safe and great trip, Ree!

The world is a small place.

In October of 2000, Blond Girl and I hit the road and drove down from Wisconsin to North Carolina to visit our son and his family, who live there, in Durham.

It was an amazing trip traveling at that time of the year, catching the beautiful fall colors on the trees, as we drove through Ohio, the Hotfessional’s West By-God Virginia, and Virginia, on our way down to Durham.

The timing of the trip was planned to coincide with the Cedar Creek Civil War Battlefield Reenactment, an annual event taking place on the grounds of the Cedar Creek Battlefield State Park, in northwestern Virginia.

It was my hope to meet several of my ‘pards’ from Company K, Sixth Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry there at the Reenactment, and fall in with them in the Black Hat Battalion for at least one day of the battle reenactment, before heading on down to North Carolina. I had last seen those fellows, mostly from New Jersey, and from Pennsylvania, the year before, at the 135th Anniversary Reenactment of the Battle of Gettysburg, in PA, where some 28,000+ reenactors of us took part in that largest civil war reenactment ever held in the U.S.

As it turned out, Blond Girl and i arrived after dark on the Friday evening of the Cedar Creek reenactment, and found that a couple of Co. K members had made the trip over from New Jersey for the event. We visited a bit, and made plans for my return the next morning, in Union uniform, to take part in the Battle scenario that was to take place.

Sunday morning dawned sunny, bright and cool to begin with, as Blond Girl and I made our way from a nearby town where we had stayed the night, down to the battlefield and looked up my friends, in preparation for the battle to start.

There was a good sized group from the reenactment community on hand for the battle, both Union and Confederate, and I was fortunate to be able to spend time visiting and remembering our week-long experience at the Gettysburg 135th event the previous year.

Co. K Captain at the time, Capt. Bob Patterson, was kind enough to lend me his musket for the battle scenario, and just after noon, we got ready for the battle to begin.

As many people are aware, Civil War reenactment battles and skirmishes are entirely scripted, as to troop movements, and who wins the day, including which and how many participants “take hits,” on both sides in the battle, attempting to accurately portray what actually occured during the original event almost a century and a half ago.

At Cedar Creek, a large Confederate force surprised a large camped Union force in the morning, scattering and routing them several miles from their camps at Cedar Creek. Later in the day, Union forces rallied, and regained the original ground they had lost in the morning, including what was left of their camp and possessions.

Our reenactment started out with our Union infantry force being ’surprised’ by Confederate forces and driven across the battlefield almost a half a mile, fighting and firing our muskets all the way, at the advancing rebs, in what was termed as a “strategic withdrawal,” as often was the case in many of the civil war engagements of that war.

During our retreat across the battlefield grounds, I probably loaded and fired some 30-40 powder rounds, and eventually had to borrow some powder charges from a fellow Union infantry soldier I had been fighting beside all the way across the valley we retreated on. I had seen this fellow the evening before during our brief visit, but never got a chance to meet or talk with him.

When our Union infantry force had finally reached the point of retreat where we were to stop, we rested briefly and then, start advancing back across the 1/2 mile we had just given up, ‘attacking’ the confederate infantry back across the same ground, to the original starting point.

It was during our brief rest, while we were taking water from our canteens and briefing talking with each other, that an amazing incident occurred.

It was then that I turned to the fellow infantryman stranger beside me, who I had fought right beside all along during the Union retreat, and who had given me a hand-full of his own powder cartridges, and I shock his hand and said: “Hi, I’m Lance; glad to soldier with you.” He said: “Hi. I’m Chris; from DC, nice to soldier with you, too.”

I said: “I’m from Wisconsin, on my way to North Carolina, and I am portraying my great great grandfather, Albert Harland Rolfe, who was a member of the original Company K, Sixth Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry, who fought with the Union Army of the Potomac in the civil war.”

Chris said: “Wisconsin, huh…, are you from anywhere near Beaver Dam?”

I said: “Beaver Dam…, yeah, I’ve got a sister and brother-in-law, Sue and Mick McConaghy who live in Beaver Dam, about an hour and a half from my home.”

Chris said: “McConaghy, huh…, do they have a daughter named Michelle?”

I said: instantly alert and somewhat startled by Chris’s question… “Yes….., why do you ask?”

Chris said: Is she marrying a guy named Paul next summer…?”

Even more startled, I said: “yeeesssss……., why do you ask?”

To my absolute astonishment, Chris said: “Yeah…., Paul is my brother, and I’m the Best Man at their wedding next summer!”

As my mouth dropped open in amazement, I almost fell over, and replied: “You have got to be kidding me!!! Here we are, complete strangers at a civil war reenactment in Virginia, who end up fighting next to each other, within two feet of one another for an hour of historic reenactment, and our paths and family ties are so connected! This is truly, incredible, just incredible!”

Family connections back then in that terrible event were close, and today, observing that historic event, family ties are still connected and close.

At Paul and Michelle’s wedding that next summer, I had the pleasure to photographing their reception in Beaver Dam, and renewing my new friendship with Chris, including having our picture taken together with us both wearing the “Black Hats” of the 6th Wisconsin Infantry.

One really never knows what connection one may have with a stranger next to you.

One thing is for sure: The world truly is a small place.

—- It surely is, Lance. But I bet Blond Girl is glad that the distance between you is really teeny now. —-

First and foremost, witchypoo is NOT NotFessional at all. She’s wonderful and even though we’ve never met face-to-face, she’s my friend now and forever. She submitted the title with this post – I would have named it something like, “witchypoo is the greatest Canadian ever” and if you know me, you know how I feel about some Canadians. By the way, I would have said she’s my friend even if I HADN’T read this before it posted. She’s THAT cool. Even in her pajama bottoms.

Truth be told, I’m more like a tepid confessional, what with my age sucking the life hot factor out of me, and all the predicting of sinning I do with my clients.

I have no idea how She-Ra Hot does it with all the commuting and brain sucking meetings she endures. I imagine her gazing sadly at her shiny boots while suppressing the urge to ram them up some deserving, entitled co-worker’s arse.

I don’t have the social skills to smile sweetly when I have the urge to commit foul deeds on the person of the smilee. I’m old. Emotional and physical pain just makes me cranky.

Nobody wants me to come to dinner with them because I refuse to eat food that is just so-so. They either think I’m cheap or just out to embarrass them.

In social situations, I am busy blocking out people’s energy, so as not to get overwhelmed. I probably bray when I laugh.

But the thing is, when I tune in, I tune into the heart, and the connection is amazing. I do this with my work, and often can facilitate a wonderful transformation.

Hotfessional knows my heart, and I know hers. It’s a thing of beauty. I just wanted to stop by and say this: “Ree, you are in my heart.”

—- And you, witchypoo, are in mine. If I ever make it to the Great White North, I’m skipping my brother’s house and driving straight to yours. —-

When I first asked for guest posters, Jules asked me, “Is there a screening process?” Of course, in that very second, she passed with an A+. Actually, she had me at this post. Party girl extraordinaire, Hallmark store legend, protector-of-little-old-ladies everywhere — I present to you: Jules!

When I lived out east, my old Acura needed serious repair work, and luckily the dealership gave me one of their sweet rides as a free loaner for the weekend. They could have done this because they knew I had no other way to get to my weekend job, which required a jaunt by car on New Jersey’s Garden State Parkway (unlike the 2 graphic design jobs I got to by subway in Manhattan during the week), but I’m pretty sure they did it because I made them uncomfortable with all of my pathetic tear-induced hyperventilating over the estimated cost of repairs and wondering how I’d also manage to pay my rent, even with 3 jobs.

I actually had to breathe into a paper bag because the hyperventilating wouldn’t stop, which made me cry harder because I was embarrassed, and the cycle continued. In that moment I thought, “Gasping for air into a paper bag in the service center of a car dealership? This is no way to live. Must. Breathe.”

As soon as I calmed down, they pulled around a brand new Acura Integra and handed me the keys. In that moment, I reminded myself that life is short and it was time to cheer myself up by doing something unexpected. There’s no better way to cheer yourself up than by doing something unexpected while in possession of a hot car that somebody else owns.

After finding someone to cover my Saturday shift, I got up early for a 2-hour road trip from my apartment to Point Pleasant, NJ. I’d never seen such a foggy day “on the shore”, and it felt like walking around on the set of a Hitchcock film.

Even though I decided to lose one day of pay (money that I really needed to make ends meet in those days), I will always think back to that morning on Point Pleasant Beach as one of the best decisions I ever made. It was exactly what I needed. Don’t eke out your existence with the assumption that you can put a dollar value on recharging your soul. Get out there. Live so you can breathe.

This was one of the first images in my ongoing “Sit!” series. ©HouseofJules Photography

I was drawn to the contrast between the muted colors of the shower heads/sky and the dark, saturated sand. ©HouseofJules Photography

Detail shot. If you hold this photo up to your ear, you can hear the ocean. ©HouseofJules Photography

This was my last shot of the day. I noticed these 2 teenagers walking the beach together earlier, and as I was getting ready to snap the photo of the 2 showers with the fogged-out pier in the background, they sort of unknowingly ambled into my frame. I have no idea what they were looking at but they stood like that just long enough for me to get the shot. I know it looks like they’re superimposed, but I have the negative to prove that they’re not. Yes, a negative. As in film. Remember film? ©HouseofJules Photography

—- Isn’t this a timely reminder right now? Breathe. Live. Enjoy. —-

I’ve been reading Magpie Musing for ages and was thrilled when I got to meet her at BlogHer ‘09. We hung out on the rail overlooking the Chicago river, downed a couple of beers and shot the shit like we’d grown up together. Well, that’s how I remember it anyway. (And since she’s guest blogging for me, I’m assuming she remembers it the exact same way.) She not only has a way with words, but she’s a whiz in the kitchen as well!

The Hotfessional’s out of town, and I’m house-sitting. Just for today, I’m keeping the lights on and the home fires burning.

When she asked for squatters, I thought about what to write – she’s far hotter and way more ‘fessional than I am so it was a little daunting – but then it came to me. What better thing to write about than anonymity and her cousin, pseudonymity – especially on a blog not one’s own?

I started my blog merely for me. I picked a blog name that riffs on my own name, and is, in fact, something that people have called me from time to time – along with Magnolia, Magenta, Maggot and Magnesium. But I picked it more for the romantic idea of the magpie – an acquisitive collector of unrelated tidbits. For that’s what I do – I collect eccentric bits and spit them out on the intertubes. It’s awfully hard to pigeonhole myself when asked to do so – I’m not a food blogger, or a mommy blogger, or a crafty blogger, or an entertainment blogger – I’m just me, collecting weird stuff for my amusement, writing about the things that I need to write to process, remembering my life now and then.

Over time, I’ve told family and friends about my blog – or someone told someone else and I find out that she too is reading. I’ve set up a linkage so that my blog posts show up on my Facebook page. I’m happy that friends and family are reading – even though it sometimes takes me aback if someone mentions it in person.

But – and here’s where we circle back to that “professional” thing that the Hotfessional does so well – I’ve kept the blog and other social media out of my work life. Most (if not all) of my colleagues are on Facebook. I don’t know if any of them tweet. My boss is on Facebook and Twitter, but not really – we do it for him, as a tangential marketing device. But though I’m on Facebook, I’m not his friend, or anyone else’s. And my privacy settings there are such that they shouldn’t be able to find me – theoretically, of course, as nothing is fail-safe.

Sometimes I wonder why. I think it’s because I don’t want anyone second-guessing my time, or peering into my personal life too closely. I have a job, and I have a life. I love my job, but at the end of the day, I work to live, not the other way round.

But those walls, they are paper thin. I know people through work who happen to live in my town – they probably know local people that I’m friends with on Facebook, like the book club women – and someday, the flimsy will succumb.

A couple of years ago, I got an email with a subject line of “i’ve uncovered your secret identity, ms. magpie” – well, actually, it used my real last name. I’d left a comment on a third party blog post in which I mentioned that I used to know this person – through work, as it happens. She found the comment, because she had a Google alert set up on her name. She went from there to my blog, put two and two together, and guessed right. It still kind of amuses me that she found me, though I’m glad that it happened long after she ceased to have any involvement with my organization. I think I’d be appalled if a current board member or staff member stumbled upon my blog. With luck, I’ll have won the lottery by then.

How about you? Does your office know about your blog? Are you concerned about anonymity? Do you write using pseudonyms? And when the wall is breached, will it bother you?

—- Are you kidding? I deleted my Facebook identity as soon as my mother mentioned that she had an account. —-

Jen on the Edge is guest posting for me today. She’s the mother of two daughters (Graceful and Elegant – who obviously take after Mom) and wife to Pete. She’s also the proud owner of Precious – although I hear she does let mere mortals partake in Precious’s loveliness. Now, give it up for Jen, y’hear?

I have recently discovered that I have a problem with lust.

Not lust for George Clooney or Colin Firth or Daniel Craig or Brad Pitt (who’s just a hot mess these days anyway).

No, I have developed lust for something else entirely.

Shoes.

[When Hotfessional asked me to guest blog for her, I immediately knew that I'd have to talk about shoes, since we all know how much Hot loves her some great shoes.]

Back to the shoes…

Every November, my family performs the annual ritual known as Asking Everyone What They Want For Christmas. I’m sure your families do this too — emails fly back and forth wanting to know what each person in your household wants from Santa that year.

Here in my household, most people have some ideas they want to run by me, just to make sure it’s something that my kids and husband don’t already have. I always offer multiple suggestions and often include links to websites. However, whenever anyone asks for my personal gift requests, I always say something like, “Oh don’t get me anything, really, I mean it.”

And I do. I swear, I do.

My husband and I would actually really appreciate it if people would drop us from their gift list and instead gave their money to a charity. We are truly happy with what we have and there’s nothing we really want. And if something does come on our radar that we just have to have, we just take care of it ourselves.

A few weeks ago, my parents asked what I wanted for Christmas and I told them that I didn’t want anything. They persisted and I held firm. Finally, they asked if they could get me a new pair of Danskos since I love them so much and wear them all the time. My immediate response was “No, that’s too expensive. Plus, I already have three pairs and there aren’t any others that I’m just dying to have.”

My parents didn’t like that response, so they emailed my husband, who asked me to please, pretty please, give him some Dansko ideas so that he could get his in-laws off his back.. In order to be helpful to my true love, I emailed him two suggestions.

Want to know which Danskos I chose? Check ‘em out:

Fabulous, I know.

I usually wear top-to-bottom black. This means that I don’t have to actually think when I’m getting dressed at the butt crack of dawn. I just reach into my closet for various articles of black clothing and then I’m done for theday. I can imagine just how FAB either pair of shoes would look with my usual daily outfits and how they would really jazz things up.

I should mention that I had never actually seen either of those shoes in real life. While Danskos are huge with all the moms here in my town, most people wear black or brown ones. Never anything wild. I think we all can agree that the ones I picked out are wild. Bold. Screaming to be noticed. I imagine that they would make my daily grind ever so much more fun.

So I gave my husband those gift ideas and reminded him that I don’t need new Danskos and really don’t want anyone to spend that kind of money on me.

And that was that.

Or so I thought.

Not long after that, I had to slog through the rain to the Post Office with a big-ass bag full of packages to mail. Right next to the post office is a store that sells Danskos. Since it was 8:30 a.m., the store wasn’t open yet; however, there was a bright spotlight in the store’s big bay window…

… and under that spotlight were the exact two pairs of shoes I had just asked for.

The ones I had never seen before in a town where virtually every female between the ages of 35 and 55 wears Danskos.

The shoes were gleaming under a heavenly light and at that very moment a chorus of angels sang down from on high. I think it might have been the Hallelujah chorus from Handel’s “Messiah.”

People, we have a problem now.

I have lust in my heart. I want those damn shoes. The very ones that I swore that I don’t need.

If Daniel Craig appeared to me right now like this:

… and offered me either a hot night with him or a pair of those shoes, I wouldn’t even hesitate before choosing the shoes.

The only question would be, which pair.

So as we approach Christmas, I am not calm or serene. Oh no. I am impatient and wondering if I’m getting a new pair of shoes on the 25th and, if so, which ones.

Here’s what I’d like to know: What do you think of the shoes? Do you like them? If so, which ones would you choose?

—- Jen already knows I’m lusting after the leopard print ones. —-