“Logging in on my computer.”
“Logging in? After all these years, you’re logging in? I mean, that’s great, Mom. So, um. I guess you’re checking all that email I send you, just in case?”
“Not so much. I’ve been reading your blog, though.”
“You’ve been what?”
“You bookmarked it for me.”
“Well, after all these years, I just didn’t think you . . . I figured it was safe to . . . Hey. That’s great, Mom.”
Pause.
“So, what have I been blogging about, lately?”
“Oh, mostly just the Seattle trip. And stuff.”
“Cool.”
Pause.
“Um, what’s ‘stuff’? What do you mean my ‘stuff’? Hey—can I just look at your Mac for a moment? I want to check my traffic. And stuff.”
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I utterly refuse to give my Mom my web address. She is a good Democrat. If she wants to see my current design, I show her my test site.