I was having lunch with a friend.
I do have a few of those, and on occasion, I even fake being sociable and have lunch with one of them.
Rarely, but it does happen.
And today I even managed to remember to use my napkin.
During lunch, she told me about the time that she went to have her hair cut and styled, and her 4 or 5-year-old son was in tow.
She is a dark-haired brunette and her son is a shining golden, towheaded blonde.
And he is blonde enough that, yes, her really does deserve the excessive adjectives.
The hairstylist remarked to her “Wow, where did your son’s blonde hair come from?”
”I have no idea,” my friend replied.
And then she realized that the rather awkward way in which this was received by the hairstylist meant that the hairstylist took this to mean that my friend must sleep around an awful lot, in order to not be sure.
And while my friend really does have no idea where her son’s blonde hair comes from, it is not because she….um, fill in the euphemism here, please…but because she has never met either of his biological parents.
Anyhow, as a result of her sharing this story with me, I got to learn two new words today, in sign language, for sleeping around (that being the more polite of the two).
I love learning new words.
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