It all started innocently enough.

I go to their blogs; they come to mine.

They are Tanya Espanya and Trixie, the artist formerly known as Jacy.

We post. We comment. We laugh. We cry.

Then we email. Then there’s a meet-up planned in Toronto, and my brother-in-law drops me off at the designated meet-up location.

“And you’ve never actually met these people before?” he says with trepidation.

“Well, we’ve met on-line,” I say.

“But you’ve never met face-to-face.”

“Um, no.”

My brother-in-law doesn’t look convinced. He drops me off. “Good luck,” he says. “Take care.”

He thinks I’m going to meet axe-murders - weirdo axe murders who blog in the basement in their pyjamas.

They don’t actually butcher me with axes, but they do butcher me with their sense of humour, their beautiful baby and their wicked wit.

Next thing you know we’re real friends.

And now they’re are here, at my cottage, taking over with their beautiful baby, their laptops and their love of disco music from our youth.

They know my family now, our habits, my pet cat Cheddar.

IT’s all too much.

How did this happen?

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