Dear Corey Flintoff,September 5, 2007
I confused you with Scott Simon! I confused his sweet, overeager voice (when dealing with baseball only; at all other times he is professionally calm and undereager) with your fine, controlled live-from-Baghdad one. I don't know how to explain how I did that except that I was not well-enough caffeinated.
And not only did I confuse you two, but because of the tunnels in the knitters' underground (this is how we get wool from Canada), YOU FOUND OUT that I mixed up the two of you. And now, forever more, instead of thinking of me as Rachael Herron, writer and avid NPR aficionado, you will think of me as Rachael Herron, that girl who doesn't know how many minutes are in an inning AND can't tell voices apart when listening to her factory-installed cassette-tape radio on her way to work.
I hope you will forgive the gaffe.
Don't tell Scott, huh?
Be careful over there.
Yours very truly,
** edited to add:
Dear Corey Flintoff, Scott Simon, and Ira Glass (who is not part of this but I adore you, too),
If you would like a pair handknit socks to make up for the confusion, please specify color and size. I am not kidding. Nor am I a stalker. I just like to knit socks.
Yours very truly again,