After reading her blog for the past five years, I finally met Alexa. She visited Seattle as her last stop on her book tour promoting her memoir, Half Baked. I have been excited to meet her since I found out she was heading this way.
I brought TJ along with me because I wasn’t sure how long I would be gone from home and it’s easier to handle a four-month-old baby, even an active one, than it is an active, frenzied four-year-old boy. Four-year-olds get bored, need the bathroom, ask to eat, lift up your shirt when you’re in line at the grocery store. Babies can be strolled, patted on the back, soothed with a pacifier and in this case, rocked incessantly while strapped in a baby carrier. It was his first book reading and he was very well behaved. Of course, it took my performing lunges and dancing the Roger Rabbit to keep him quiet which is why I look SO SWEATY in this picture. I don’t know why I didn’t just take him out of the baby carrier and hold him because it looks like I’m emptying him out onto Alexa’s chest and he’s giving the “I don’t think this is a safe position for me!” look. There are worse things, child!
Alexa is pure delight. Her writing is gripping and heart-felt, containing the kind of poignancy and wit that the literary world needs. I’ve always loved her blog and this book is an extension of that, an unabridged access to her life as a mother, especially in the raw, surreal period after giving birth to a 1.5 pound baby. She is my writing hero. As she read passages from her book and talking about her early days as a blogger, I began to miss my own writing, the way I started this blog with edge and spunk and now what do I have, vagina diatribing and waxing philosophic about working poles. Still, Alexa left me breathless and inspired to re-invest the zest I once had for this space. And isn’t that what writing is supposed to do—be the cathartic force that energizes others to tell stories of their own?