My Doppelganger. Or Not.

You know that theory that every person has, somewhere among the teeming humanity, an identical twin? That there is a person walking around out there who looks exactly like you, acts exactly like you, would fool your husband into thinking you were THE SAME PERSON if that identical twin suddenly took your place, not realizing that you are purely good and the identical twin is purely evil?

Yeah. I've never subscribed to that theory either until yesterday, when I met the woman who may be my doppelganger. Oh, she's red-headed and I'm (thank you, Clairol) blonde; she's two inches taller than I am, and mrhmpher pounds narrower; she gets paid to write, and my writing time is usually stolen from the job that pays me to do other things.

Still, we're both bloggers--she's at the fabulous Pillow A La Mode, and I'm in this little corner of the internet. We're both the mothers of all boys, although I "only" have four, and she and her husband have a combined seven, which makes me gasp with admiration. We both take our coffee with cream. We both play the piano (and I'm counting this although she is good at it and I'm inept but willing).

We met because she lives lives only a few miles away and mutual friends kept telling we must meet, and I must say: I don't know that I've ever had so much fun on a blind date. We sat down with our (creamed) coffee and the first time I glanced at my watch we had been talking for 84 minutes. It felt as if we'd just scratched the surface of getting to know each other.

But then we walked out to our cars, still thinking of one more thing to say, and she said, "Oh, here! I made you a little something," and handed me a gorgeous little polka-dotted bag containing a couple of her special a-la-mode creations. It was such a kind, thoughtful thing to do that I stood there goggling at her, uncharacteristically speechless.

I had just realized: She is thoughtful and kind, and didn't say a single word during our long coffee break that didn't put me at ease. She definitely is the good twin, which means I must be the evil twin.

My entire self-concept may have to be revised.