The other night, I saw I had a new message. When I got there, I saw a nick that reminded me of the an old friend's SCA persona. But I didn't think it could be her. We hadn't spoken since 2001, and I've moved several times since then. Besides, I knew there was a divorce and that she'd had breast cancer. I feared we'd lost her to the disease, and her ex--with whom we'd been in brief contact via another friend-- didn't seem to care much, and had no clue where she was.
In my heart, I was mourning her loss.
But instead, there was this message, and lo and behold, it was her. She'd googled me, but it turns out there are a lot of people with my name--which, actually is pretty unique-- including one with red hair. She did find a link between my name and my nom de plume here. When her sister sent her to DKos as a good site for her to read, she stumbled on one of my diaries, and read some others, and realized, by putting together some details like the name of my first husband, my late lamented cat's name, and my current husband's name--that it was me.
She is the only real living wood sprite I've ever met, straight out of Tolkien. Small but fierce, she has forgotten more about herb lore and Wicca and myth than most of us will ever know. She loves sf and fantasy and manga and anime, and will be taking a tour of Japan later this year. Her lovely singing voice ( I remember her rendition of "John Barleycorn" in particular) has enlivened many a bardic circle, and she also bellydanced years ago. She will bring a unique perspective to this group.
And so, thanks to a political community website, I found someone I though was gone from my life for good. So, thank you DKos. And thank you, Ysabet, for finding us. I thought I was a pretty good detective, but you've got me beat.
NOTE: I'll be taking a few days off, till Wednesday or Thursday. I've had a nasty allergic reaction and look like I've got the plague ("Bring out yer dead!") with hives, so the doctor put me on Prednisone for 5 days which will solve the problem but which has some unpleasant side effects, including making me even less tolerant of stupidity than usual, along with a tendency to insomnia. I figure it's better for us all if I take my jitters out elsewhere. Maybe I ought to write Bobby Franklin, the GA legislator who wants all miscarriages investigated as possible homicides....