I talked to my mom the other day on the phone. Nothing out of the ordinary, there.
“What are you up to?” she asked.
“Oh, just hanging out with some blogger friends tonight. We’re meeting up for happy hour.”
“Excuse me?” she said, in a tone that implied that she didn’t like that I was going to happy hour or something.
I was ready to get defensive, justify the expense, whatever.
Instead, I simply repeated myself.
“You know, blogger friends.”
Again, she couldn’t understand.
She sounded mystified. So I tried another tactic.
“My friends from the internet?”
“OH!” she responded. “I was trying to figure out how you have logger friends.”
It was then that I realized how much one letter can really change things.
Also, I live in Oregon, so I know what a logger looks like. Those of you who live here will back me up on this. It’s a spitting image.
The rest of you will have to trust me.
I’m still tickled by the conversation. It makes me laugh to think that I have lumberjack friends.
Thanks, Mom, for the fun giggles!