Awash in a blush
I figured at some point in time, the object of my Cougarish cyber-affections would do a Google search for his name and stumble upon the ramblings of a 40-year-old cheerleading coach baseball mom (who obviously writes in run-on sentences).
Well, it appears that it wasn't Collin Mangrum who found it. Oh my goodness. Instead, it was his mother. Am I glad that I apologized, in advance, to the dear lady for my impure thoughts about her adorable offspring.
Well, it appears that it wasn't Collin Mangrum who found it. Oh my goodness. Instead, it was his mother. Am I glad that I apologized, in advance, to the dear lady for my impure thoughts about her adorable offspring.
I got a great email from her this afternoon. I am so glad that she took the swooning in stride and wasn't horrified that the cougar was on the prowl. Now, of course, if I ever see poor Collin, I'm not sure who will me pinker in the face. Me, because everyone knows what a dirty old woman I am, or him because his mom signed her email - Army of B.B. (blushing boy). Yeah, how can a mom with a sense of humor like that NOT raise a great kid. She invited me and the family to come meet her and their family after a game (they're at all the home games, too, apparently).
We'll see if I can do it without dying of embarrassment. I don't blush very often, but when I do, I can feel the various shades of pink heat my face as they get redder.
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