Best friend in a manger

Strangers have become a fixture in my everyday life. This Sunday, a woman with a baby and aging mother recognized me at church and rightfully identified me as my father's daughter. My father's church isn't even in the state as the church I was in. I had no idea who woman, mother, or baby was, but was nevertheless engaged in conversation. I definitely promised to pass a hello onto my parents. And I definitely have. To the best of my ability.

Moi: Do you know anyone with a 7-month old baby in Boston?

Father: Didn't you say it was Peter's?

Moi: No, I said it might be Peter's. The husband wasn't around. I didn't recognize the woman. Peter was just the only name I could think of.

Father: What is this, a riddle?

And then today, I received an email. From someone whose mother knows me. But I didn't recognize the name. Naturally, the reply went something like this. "Hello... how do I know you?" All this while another young woman I've never met is spending the week with my parents. Sleeping in my childhood bed. Auditioning for the part of Offspring II- Daughter in my parents' life. This is not including, of course, my weeks-long correspondence with another friend new to Boston (I like to say that our dads were in 'Nam together) who I have yet to meet in person, and Meredith, who I'm grabbing coffee with on the basis of our mutual friends.

The moral of all this is that I'm having enough trouble recognizing people I know-- blanking out on Nicole's name when we bumped into each other on the T, and Stephanie's again the next day-- that I don't know what to do with all these strangers. I'm sharing all this to say that if I'm ever found somewhere identifiable by my dental records, please let the authorities know that one of these strangers probably had something to do with it.

PS. Work happy hour tomorrow-- let the awkward fun begin!