Guess what, this blog (Grandma Slump) has had two visitors from Russia in the last week!
That's mind-blowing to me. Someone from St. Petersburg and someone from Moscow. This is something I didn't imagine happening.
It does a couple things for me. 1) It widens my perspective. Now I know that a great blog is indeed a universal thing. 2) It qualifies me to be president, like Sarah Palin. Because the Russians can see me from there.
I could go on and on about Number 1. Do I think this blog is great? Yes, of course I do. I brag about it all the time in my own personal time. I'll be walking anonymously outside, taking Underbrush out to poop. And I'll be thinking about the people driving by in their cars, glancing over to see if I'm going to pick it up in a bag, "If they only knew who I was! I'm the brains behind the whole thing!"
Or I'll be out at Walmart standing in the checkout line, thinking, "If they only knew who I was! I'm sure they'd let me go to the front of the line, 1) Out of respect; and, 2) So I can get home quicker to write more blog posts." They're that good!
Or I'll be in church, listening to the preacher pray for everything else under the sun, and I'm thinking, "If he only knew who I was! He's certainly be thanking God for everything I provide the world (that God so loveth) via my blog."
And now I have Number 2 to think about, the fact that even the Russians are checking me out! So who says detente, the SALT talks, perestroika, and the arms race weren't good things? They kept us alive long enough, despite our fear at the time of mutual assured destruction, to now have this new age of mutual assured something else -- blog reading.
I might become the dictator (benevolent) of the world if this keeps up. Because there's millions of them and only one of me. They'll want me for the Beloved Leader as sure as anything. Then I (or one of my security doubles) can ride in a big car, with motorcycles riding along side, and they'll be tossing me flowers and big wet hand kisses. It'll be great.
No one knows the fear I had of Russians when I was a kid. In the '60s I literally slept under my bed because we thought they were coming. I was one of the kids you heard about who peed the floor.
But then everything thawed out when Nixon stole Khrushchev's shoe during the kitchen debate and buried it, and now we can live in peace, harmony, and camaraderie.