It's a Small World after all...

Before you click on this video I have to warn you that if you do you'll hate me for the rest of the day. Trust me. You'll be singing this song until you're ready to track me down and make me listen to an endless loop of KC and the Sunshine Band in retribution. Consider yourselves warned.

Now, that said - it's absolutely perfect for this post. After you read this story I'll bet you agree. (You may or may not stop singing the song long enough to say so, though).




My mother went to lunch Tuesday with a friend she hadn't seen in years. They had worked together for quite a while and kept in touch sporadically. This friend lives way the heck out in the Inland Empire in Southern California, so she and my mom agreed to meet at a restaurant halfway between where they each lived. It was a date.

They met as planned and had a lovely catch-up session. Photos of kids and grandkids were dragged out, husbands and teenagers were trashed, updates on lives were given - the usual things when two women get together. At some point in their meal a group of women came into the restaurant and sat at the table next to them.

My mom says they caught her attention when they started talking about blogs. She heard one of them saying something about a blog with "confessions" in the title, and automatically assumed it was Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, with its 2.4 billion readers. I would have made the same assumption. But then a minute later she heard one of the women say "RC" and that's when her ears really pricked up. (I guess we all know where I get my sticky beak tendencies). She kept listening in casually on their conversation and when she and her friend left the restaurant, she approached the woman she had heard say RC and asked which blog she was talking about.

And the woman said this one. This one. And my mom said, oh do you read it regularly? And the woman said she did and liked it but she wished there were more work stories. Said she was a consistent reader but hadn't commented yet. They chatted briefly and my mom left. She never said a word about how she knew about the blog. She never found out anything else about this woman. And then she told me this story and I about fell off of my chair. Hard. What are the odds on this happening? (I'm pretty sure my mother ditched the psychedelics after the '60's, but I'll look into it when I'm there).

So...if you were having lunch with the gals on Tuesday at Grapevine Restaurant in LaVerne, California and some strange woman asked you questions about your reading habits - thank you. You've made my day. This is truly a first and proves yet again what a small world it really is.

And (as Hugh Grant says in Notting Hill) it was surreal. Surreal but nice.

Very, very nice.

I may even cough up some work stories as a thank you.