Distractions

I started out my morning by praying for pooh.

It's true. I've learned that the more specific I am in my prayers, the better chance I have of them being answered. And today, I needed to find some pooh.

I have been assigned by my leader to be the designated pooh patrol. ok, it went something more like this. "Roberts Crafts in Brickyard is going out of business and everything is 90% off...is anyone willing to go and see if there is anything pooh related that we could use for girls camp?" Roberts and Clearance in the same sentance? I am so all over it!
We are using a quote from Winnie the Pooh for girls camp this year, and for my vision of the Hundred Acre Woods to be complete, I needed a Pooh. However, since I would be burying half of his body in the dirt, I didn't want, nor did we have the budget, to spend $20 on a new pooh bear...hence the prayer for pooh.

Prayers said...the day begins.

On my to-do list today, I was ready to tackle my closet. Spring doesn't know it yet, but I'm hoping 'If I wear it, it will come', so while swapping out my winter clothes for my spring wardrobe, I turned on the t.v. to keep me company. "My Girl" was on. I haven't seen that show for so long, so clothes sorting took a backseat to Dan Akroyd and Jamie-Lee. I'd forgotten how sad that show was and before I completely ruined my makeup job, I changed the channel in hopes of something a little less tender. Nanny McPhee looked promising. Several distractions and 3 hours later, I had a bag for the DI, and a closet of pastels and short sleeves.

I also had a visit from a young man in our ward. He just started a new job and needed to practice selling his whares, so I agreed to listen to his pitch, fully prepared to say "No" to whatever he was selling. 90 minutes later, I had signed away all my Kohls shopping rights so I could afford the 5 monthly payments on my new set of knives. I'm a sucker, I know. But these things can cut through leather in a single slice! It can cut a rope in a sweeping motion! They were amazazing!
After he left, it took all of 10 minutes to realize what I had done...my husband was going to kill me. For someone who loves a bargain, I don't know why I feel the need to buy from every door to door salesperson that comes along. Usually at a cost much higher than I can afford. My husband has had to come to my rescue more than once. He has saved me from spending our hawaii fund on a furniture/appliance club membership. He's had to cancel the $10,000 worth of new windows I signed up for and the $5000 vacuum that doubles as a air filter system.
However, he wasn't home today to save me from myself, and unless the purchase I make comes at a cost 70-80% less than retail, shoppers remorse inevitably sets in. Today was no exception. I was so embarrassed by my lack of ability to "Just say No", I couldn't even fess up how much I had spent. $50 was his guess. Way off. "More than $50?" Eyes rolling...voice volume higher and more agitated...oh boy, this is not good. Lucky for me, he's off to a softball game where he can vent his frustration with a bat and ball.

As for me, I'm off to the grocery store to buy ingredients for 3 pans of something chocolatey and gooey. Death by chocolate sounds better than the alternative of living with regret at the moment. Grocery shopping on saturdays with half the cities population is distracting enough, but shopping with thoughts of 'what am I going to do to get myself out of this one' doesn't lead to productive meal planning. Dinner and tomorrow's dessert was as far as I got before I gave up.

Groceries bought, food in the trunk, cart in the stall, keys in the door. Funny, I don't remember locking my door. I don't remember having a bag of bagels in the front seat either. Wait a minute. This isn't my car.
Do you know how many people have white Chevy Prism's? At least 3 people in every parking lot. This is exactly the reason I gave my husband just the other day for not taking down my car air freshener, even though it hasn't given off a single scent in a year. Sometimes it's the only way of knowing which white chevy prism is mine. Distracted, I didn't notice until it was too late. As I walked back to the little white car that did have a dangly flip-flop freshener, I was just hoping my groceries were in my trunk and not in the other one. Phew. I just hoped no one saw me playing musical cars.

One more errand to run, dropping off the bag of clothes at the DI. Normally I just drop and go, but feeling a little down, I needed a bargain fix. Something to keep my 'Crown of Clearance Queen' intact. Not really looking for anything in particular, I headed for the videos in hopes that some generous person gave up their season 2 of Lost. No such luck. bummer. Just as I was contemplating why the need to buy someone else's junk when I just happily shed 20 pounds of my own, something caught my eye...it was fluffy, and yellow, with a touch of red. Could it be? Were my eyes deceiving me? On top of a heap of discarded stuffed childhood memories and slobbery kisses, sat on a pile was pooh. As my eyes grew wide and a grin spread across my face, I just knew my poker face had ousted the DI's greatest treasure and now 50 other pair of eyes had also spotted the coveted prize, and if I didn't reach it within seconds, it would be snatched up before me! My speedwalk training kicked in as I dodged and maneuvered around little kids and carts, until finally...victory was mine! Pooh Bear! And he was perfect!

I didn't need more clothes in my closet, more seasons of Lost to distract me from living. I really don't need knives that can cut leather and rope in a single swoop. At that moment, standing in the middle of second hand heaven where bargain shoppers can go wild, suddenly everything was perfectly clear.

Happiness doesn't come from a store. It can't be bought or bargained for. It doesn't hang in your closet or on your walls.

Happiness is knowing that even when we act foolishly and against our better judgement, someone is always watching out for us and is there to help us, even if we don't feel deserving of His goodness.

For me, happiness came from an answered prayer in the form of a pooh.

I'm just grateful that He doesn't get as distracted as I do.

Open letter to mothers

Dear Moms,

Well, another Mother's Day has rolled around. A day for cards, flowers, runny eggs and burnt toast in bed, a day where children everywhere outwardly manifest our love and appreciation for you, although we probably should be doing that every day of the year.

I know as you sit in your church services this day and hear others praise the attributes of 'Motherhood', that you'll be sitting on your bench with tears in your eyes.

If you're holding a sweet little newborn in your arms, you'll be thanking the Lord that Motherhood is finally yours to behold. You'll feel a connection with Him that sent you a precious gift, and get a glimpse into the love that He must have for His children, and finally understand what a 'Mothers Love' is all about.

If your struggling to keep your children quiet, threatening a time out in the hallway, or bribing them with cheerios and fruit snacks, your tears may be those of frustration. As you hear the speaker drone on about their patient, loving, teaching, selfless mother, you might feel overwhelmed or saddened by the lack of patience and joy in the journey you see in yourself. You might feel that "enduring to the end" was a phrase coined by a Mom with small ones attached to every limb, trying to get through another Sunday of lost shoes, hair to be combed, faces to be washed, socks to be found, snacks to be packed, church-filled day. And just when you feel like succumbing to the abyss of self-pity and hopelessness, your children come home with cards filled with hand-drawn flowers, hand-prints forever captured, and hearts with simple declarations of love. Your tears soon turn to those of joy and love, and a longing to keep them young and innocent for as long as possible. Knowing that although the days may seem to endlessly drag some days, that one day you'll turn around, and they'll be grown and just a smile attached to a memory of how things used to be.

If your sitting on your pew and the tears freely flow, a kind squeeze of your hand from your husband gently reminds you that you are still a wonderful Mother. Perhaps your children have made choices that break your heart and make you question your ability to be a Mother. The lives they lead make you doubt and second guess your parenting skills, and leave you to wonder "what more could I have done" , this day might be of no joy to you. As you look around and see from your perspective, perfect families where perfect mothers reside, you might feel like you have failed in the highest calling given to you. Remember, that even in the presence of our loving Father and Mother above, that a third of their children rebelled and are lost to them forever. All is not lost for you. Do you take the credit when your children make good choices and feel the need to nominate yourself for Mother of the Year? So don't take upon yourself the blame when they use their agency and make poor choices, in spite of all that you have taught them. As much as we would like to think we have control over everything our children do, we don't, and at times, all we can do is just love them. That's all they really want. Our attention and unconditional love.

Charity Never Faileth. The pure love of Christ is Charity. The pure love of mothers is a Mothers Love, it also never faileth.

Mom's, don't beat yourselves up today as your sitting in church. If your children aren't perfect, if their socks don't match and their shirts aren't ironed...if your little one just informed you they have to give a talk in primary today...and your teenage has a permanent look of boredom on his face...don't give up. This too shall pass. And one day, you'll look back and wish you would have cherished and celebrated the little moments that come along, not just the big milestones.

Everyday with your children is a blessing. Every child is a gift. Every gift should be received with thankfulness of heart, for the One who gives us the gifts knows best what we need to receive.

Happy Mothers Day to all!

Love, Me

Tom and Gerry

Happy Birthday to two of the worlds most beloved characters of all time, Tom and Gerry. Funny, loveable, furry, mischevious, timeless, ageless. And you thought I was talking about the cartoon characters.

Meet my brother in law, Tom.

And my brother, Gerry.

Two great guys, who just happened to have their birthdays 1 day apart.

I've known Tom as long as I've known my husband, and that's a long time. Tom and my sister we're friends in high school and hung out together, although I don't think they ever dated until they got engaged. Weird, I know, but it's a great story, which I won't go into just now.

When Tom was young, him and his cousin decided they wanted to live in the hills like mountain men. They thought it sounded fun to live off the land and answer to no one. Tom loved his Mom and didn't want her to worry about him, so he wrote a beautiful note, assuring her he would be just fine, not to worry, and that he would be home in a few weeks. He packed his bag, grabbed some oranges, and set off for the woods behind his home. It didn't take long for Tom and cousin to realize mountain life wasn't all that it was cracked up to be, especially when your hungry and there's no one to cook for you, so after a few hours they gave up their dreams and headed back for home. Tom was worried of his Mother's reaction, but all she said to him when he returned back home, was what a lovely letter he had written for her, she would always cherish it.

Now I know where Tom got his nice-ness from. I have never heard Tom say anything mean about anybody, ever. He is quick to laugh, slow to anger, and easy to love. He'll always be a hero for saving my sister from marrying Dean the String, and I'm so honored to call him my brother.

My brother Gerry is 2 years younger than I am. I have fond memories growing up with him as my buddy, whether it was jumping between the beds, not being able to touch our feet to the floor for fear of the alligators in the watery carpet below. Or playing toss the bean bag with books. Sounds weird, I know, but it was really fun. We were pretty creative in finding ways to entertain ourselves back then, before Nintendo and Facebook came along. We used to take the dining table leaves and prop them up against the stairs for a fun little slippery slide, or take the slippery ugly green sleeping bags and slide down the length of the stairs.

When we were little, my mom used to sew most of our clothes. On those rare occasions that she found an exceptional good deal, we would find ourselves on the receiving end of matching outfits. I'm not sure how Gerry felt about it, but he was young enough that I don't think he even cared. Mom used to line us up on these special occasions, usually Easter and Christmas outfits, and have Dad take our pictures. I remember standing still in a line while the movie camera was recording history in the making, when Gerry suddenly, would step out of line and start stomping at the ground! I don't know if he was dilusional or just highly imaginative, but he always thought he was seeing spiders, hence the stomping and killing them. He was constantly killing those imaginary pests, our own little personal exterminator. I'm not sure when it was that he outgrew the spider stomping phase, but I'm glad for his sake that he doesn't continue to see things that aren't really there, especially spiders. eeek.

When we were probably 10 and 12, we decided we wanted to take up skiing. That is not a cheap sport, so our wise mother suggested we earn the money for lessons. We had a neighbor down the street who owned his own food storage business, so my mom talked him into letting us sell his product door to door and get a small percentage. My mom made up samples of his delicious "Peach Delight" and "Apple" drink mix, blueberry and maple syrup, and we hit the streets, trying to muster enough courage to knock on strangers doors and sweet talk our way into a sell. I'm not sure how much money we actually made, but our efforts paid off and we were able to help buy our ski equipment and take a few lessons.

I'm not sure how old he was when he Gerry had the brilliant idea to put caulking material on a water balloon and throw it at the neighborhood bully. For a kid without any formal baseball throwing training, he did us all proud. Smack! It was a direct hit...right in the face! Not only did Gerry run for his life, but every neighbor kid in our yard took flight. The closest shelter? Our house. Problem? Mom and Dad were out on a date, we were alone, defenseless, and scared! We quickly ran through the house, locking every door and window we could find. But that wasn't enough to stop the balloon eating Steve, oh no! We could hear him outside our door, ranting and raving about swallowing the poisonous goo and how he was going to die and he was going to take us with him! Obviously the walls inside our home were not protection enough from the threats and obsenities we could hear, so we ran to the safest place we knew, our "Fruit Room". Don't let the name fool you, it was like our own personal bomb shelter. It was a long, narrow, cold dungeon built underneath our front porch. We called it our fruit room cuz that's where mom stored all her bottled fruit and food storage since it stayed nice and cold. ( It also doubled as a haunted hall for my 2 sister's october birthdays. ) We all huddled together, too afraid to venture upstairs to call one of the others kid's mom and tell her we were being held hostage by a foaming at the mouth lunatic. It was the longest night of our lives. We didn't know if he was still out there, waiting for us to come out, and none of us we're willing to risk our lives to find out.
Finally, when we heard the familiar voices of Mom and Dad, we felt safe enough to come out. We were saved! Steve had apparently given up, went home, called poison control, drank some milk, and was just fine. Gerry, on the other hand, was afraid to walk past Steve's house for the longest time. Ok, I can't really speak for Gerry, but I was afraid to walk past Steve's house.

Those were the good ol' days. Now Gerry is the father of 5. I'm sure his rocket building, balloon throwing, spider killing days has served him well in raising 4 boys and 1 girl of his own. He is a quiet, gentle and giving soul that is filled with knowledge and talent and humility like no other. I am so blessed to have grown up with such a wonderful brother. I don't remember ever, EVER, getting mad or having a fight with Gerry. He always has been, and still is, the best brother a sister could ever ask for.

Both Tom and Gerry have seen their share of loss and adversity, especially this past year. Both have met their challenges with strength, courage, and faith. You are wonderful examples to your families, and to me. I'm so proud to have you as brothers and love you both!

25 down, eternity to go

Yesterday was my 25th wedding anniversary. I hate to say "silver" because that implies old, and gray, which I am, but will forever be in denial. If your thinking I didn't post this yesterday cuz I was out celebrating my big day with my man, out having a good time with the little surprise I planned for him, well...you would be wrong.

I spent the night with the other 'Biggest Losers', and no, I wasn't too 'Glee' about it. I would have gladly given up my tuesday night shows to be out on the town, but it wasn't meant to be. The stars were not aligned in our universe and things just didn't work out the way they were supposed to. So instead, we let Chef Boyardee prepare us a nice little romantic italian dinner (mini-ravioli), then Tary and Trey went to scouts, while I sat home alone, just me and my thoughts, thinking how much I love my husband and reflecting on all the wonderful years we've had thus far.

Yeah right. I was flipping back and forth between my two favorite shows, enjoying the uninterrupted "Me" time. I must admit I was a little disappointed things didn't turn out the way I expected them too, but then again, if there's one thing I've learned in the 25 years of marriage, it's this: If you don't expect anything, you'll never be disappointed when that's all you get.

Here are 25 more little words of marriage wisdom I've learned over the years:

1. Always check the direction of the toilet seat in the middle of the night before you sit down.
2. When you ask him what he wants for dinner and he says he doesn't care, be prepared after you've made him something. That's when he'll tell you what he really wanted.
3. When you ask him what he wants for dinner and he says "anything you want to make", make a phone call and order out.
4. Don't try to spend as much money on your hobbies as he will on his; I know it's not fair.
   
5. Life isn't fair, get over it.
6. Dancing in the kitchen is much more fun with a partner.
7. Painting your bedroom pink while the husband is away on an expensive out of state hunt WILL deter him from ever doing it again.
   
8. Don't expect oohs and aahs from your man after showing him your latest craft project. That's what friends and sisters are for.
9. "That's nice dear" is man talk for "That is awesome! You are so talented! You always amaze me!"
10. Never be too tired to stay up all night talking and giggling.
11. Men will deny that they giggle.
    
12. Success in marriage does not come merely through finding the right mate, but through being the right mate. ~Barnett R. Brickner
13. Choose your love, then love your choice.
    
14. All marriages are happy. It's the living together afterward that causes all the trouble. ~Raymond Hull
15. Never feel remorse for what you have thought about your wife; she has thought much worse things about you. ~Jean Rostand, Le Mariage, 1927
16. Marriage means commitment. Of course, so does insanity.
17. Don't smother each other. No one can grow in shade. ~Leo Buscaglia
18. The husband who doesn't tell his wife everything probably reasons that what she doesn't know won't hurt him. ~Leo J. Burke
19. Married life teaches one invaluable lesson: to think of things far enough ahead not to say them. ~Jefferson Machamer
20. A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers. ~Ruth Bell Graham
21. I have learned that only two things are necessary to keep one's wife happy. First, let her think she's having her own way. And second, let her have it. ~Lyndon B. Johnson
22. Before marriage, a man declares that he would lay down his life to serve you; after marriage, he won't even lay down his newspaper to talk to you. ~Helen Rowland
23. Why does a woman work ten years to change a man's habits and then complain that he's not the man she married? ~Barbra Streisand
    
24. The best way to remember your wife's birthday is to forget it once. ~H.V. Prochnow
25. If you want to be loved, you have to be lovable. ~ Ruth Mills (my mom, best advice I ever got)

In all fairness, my husband did surprise me with this beautiful necklace!



And Skip and Faun surprised my husband with his elk head that Skip so beautifully taxidermied. Thanks to them, Tary went to bed a happy man.

And I started working on my new list:

26. Never tell your husband he can decorate the basement anyway he wants, just so long as he gets it finished.

Spring = Motivation

I love Spring! As I was driving Trey to school this morning, I caught a whiff of the fresh cut grass as the landscapers at the park were making their first cut of the season, and I knew spring had finally arrived! And that can only mean two things...my allergies will also be in full bloom soon, and time to shave my legs and pull out the shorts.

The one downside to being married (luv ya hon) is having to share a closet. Our closet isn't very big to begin with, so every spring and fall I find myself doing the ol' wardrobe switch-a-roo. And every year I pull out my stack of shorts and sort them into piles of "still fit" and "don't-fit-anymore-but-someday-they-will". One pair in particular, has been my motivation for the past 3 years now. My sister gave me a pair of capris from Sundance that are adorable! The problem is, they ride low on the hip, and without that upper support to hold my junk in, everything just seems to come spilling out. And every fall as I pack them away, I vow to be able to fit into them by next spring. But the inevitable always happens...halloween candy, Thanksgiving pies, and Christmas. Of course, that's why New Years was invented by the healthclub industry, and I, like the millions of others who fall into their little trap, get on the band-wagon for about a month, and try to lose it all by spring. The way things were looking, I didn't think spring was ever going to get here, so I didn't feel the urgency to jump on that health-kick wagon until this week.

I don't know how I've been able to go through late night TV and never see the informercial for P90X. Heaven knows i've spent my fair share on knives that never dull, cleaners that smell like an orange grove, and exercise videos that promise a 'new me' in six weeks, so when Tary told me he was going to get this new exercise program, I was all for it. The treadmill was getting a little boring, and if He was going to buy it, He must be planning on using it. Finally, a work-out buddy!

Remember now, I had never heard of this program, much less seen it. I had no idea what it was about. When Tary brought it home I must admit, just looking at the cover and the 12 cd's, each guaranteed to make the next 90 days of your life a living *@?!, I was scared. It took us a month before we got up the courage to open it up and watch the first CD labeled, "How to Bring It". Then with a renewed determination, we promptly watched the first workout "Chest and Back". Wow! Just watching it made me tired, so it sat, unused, for another week.

Which brings me to motivating factor no. 2. Next week is my 25th anniversary. I've planned a little surprise get-away for me and the hubby. Enough said...you get the picture. Time to kick this flabby bootie into gear.

Normally, I'm one of those people who go into a cold lake, one inch at a time, so it doesn't hurt so bad, but I knew if I wanted fast results, I was going to have to jump in all at once. So I put in "Plyometrics", and first thing the instructor says is how this is the hardest workout. No turning back now. Ten minutes later, I thought I would pass out...and that was just the warm-up! Well, I jumped, kicked, squatted and lunged for the next 30 minutes. Don't be proud of me just yet, the workout was 52 minutes, I lasted through half of it before my face felt ready to explode. I didn't know how many shades of red my face made, but I discovered that night it can go all the way up the color palatte to crimson.

That was 3 days ago...today I've finally been able to walk up the stairs without the use of the handrail. When people at work would ask me what's wrong, all I had to say was P90X, and I would get sympathy. I really didn't know what I was getting in to...

...but now I do. And i've come to the conclusion...

...inch by inch is much more sinch. Besides, it's not warm enough yet to jump in any lake.

Silence of the Moths

So, a friend of mine (which shall remain anonymous, due to the sensitive nature of her feelings, and the embarrassing lack of kitchen hygiene) had a moth infestation a couple of months ago. Not the big, creepy, silence of the lambs kind of moths, just kinda cute, baby moths. They were small enough, and still slow enough, that she could catch them in her hands, and depending on her mood at the moment, either released them to freedom outside, or would drown them in the sink. The problem was, as soon as she got rid of one, two more would show up. Killing 10 in one day, 20 the next. What the heck! It's cold, aren't moths supposed to hibernate, or fly south for the winter? Where were they coming from?
Well, they obviously were coming from the kitchen. That's where all the captures and killings were taking place. Were they drawn to the paint color in the kitchen? Or the wonderful smells? (My friend is an excellent cook) Finally, she came to the conclusion that a moth must have laid her eggs somewhere in the kitchen, and her babies were now just hatching. A pretty gross thing to think about. In due time, they were all exterminated, and the kitchen became once more, a moth free zone.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, they returned. Slowly at first, just one or two, which quickly became again, 10 or 20. One day her daughter came to visit, and noticing the unusual choice of pets, asked my friend about them. When she told them how they wouldn't go away and kept coming back, her daughter, who was either wise or paid attention in science class, said "Mom, those aren't moths, those are weevils". What? She was sure her daughter was mistaken. Weevils are creepy little worm things that live in wheat and expired mac-n-cheese. Sometimes they unexpectedly appear in hot cocoa, making the drinker think they were marshmallows that didn't melt, until they realized that marshmallows don't crunch (yeah, really happened). But they don't fly around pretending to be moths. However, the very idea that they possibly could be, prompted my friend to do a little spring kitchen cleaning, starting with the cupboards.
She started with the bottom shelf where she stores her wheat and rice, all clear. No signs of life. Same with the pasta shelf and cookie and cracker shelf. She was feeling pretty confident by the time she got to the spice shelf. But since she was in the zone, she cleaned out, threw out, lined up and organized. Maybe the weevil scare was a blessing in disguise. Five shelves down, one to go. The baking shelf. Surely there would be no weevils among the powdered and brown sugars, the cocoa and chocolate chips. Marshmallows and nuts...what the crap?! What is in the nuts? WEEVILS! Gross! Creeping...slugging...sluffing...hatching...flying weevils!

Is your skin crawling yet? Mine was.

Needless to say, her top shelf is completely clean...of everything! No more weevils, no more moths, no more food.

P.S...Don't be asking me to bake you any chocolate chips cookies any time soon. I seem to be lacking a few key ingredients.

A first for everything.

Awhile back, I wrote a post about being alone and how there are just certain things I would never do. And if there's anything I've learned in my short 39 years, it's never say never (and always lie about your age).

Yesterday, my work sent me to a Communications and Collaborations seminar in downtown Salt Lake. I spent the morning at a table with complete strangers, learning to communicate and collaborate with them. When it was time for lunch, our instructor gave us an hour to fend for ourselves. I was hoping I could convince one of my new-found friends to get a bite to eat with me, but by the time I gathered up my things, went deep-purse diving for my keys and checked my messages, everyone had gone! I was left alone...doesn't anyone else dawdle anymore? What a predicament I found myself in.

So I left the safety of the hotel conference room, and made my way into the scary streets of downtown salt lake. I pulled into the second eating establishment I saw, Wendy's. (The first being McDonalds, need I say more). The drive-thru looked busy, so I went inside and ordered my chicken cranberry salad and rootbeer to go. As I was picking up my fork and napkins, I wondered how convenient it was actually going to be to eat a salad in the car without spilling it's contents down the front of me, and where would I go to eat without being noticed? Pioneer Park was just up the street, but a homeless person upon seeing my delicious salad might try to smash through my car window to get to it. The hotel parking lot was busy with people coming and going and I didn't want anyone thinking I was weird for eating in my car, wondering why not just take it in my room and eat it. (Alot can go through your mind in a few short seconds). So, I took a look around and noticed several other people sitting at their tables, eating alone and I thought, what the heck. There's a first for everything.

I picked a table as far away as I could get, and sat with my back towards the people, so no one could see my face and know my shame. I didn't even have a book or a newspaper to pretend to read while I ate. It was just me and my salad and the window in front of me. I would like to tell you how good it tasted, but I think I inhaled it too fast to enjoy it. I couldn't wait to get out of there. But by the time I finished, I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I just ate alone. I survived. I didn't die from embarrasement. A big "L" did not mysteriously appear on my forehead. I was feeling such a boost of confidence by the time I picked up my trash and disposed of it, that I even snuck a glance at a fellow alone-eater and smiled at him. Nothing big and toothy (hint: never give a toothy smile immediately after eating a salad), just a slight smile and nod, as if to say, I've just joined the "Eating Alone Annonymous Club", I see your a member too.

Back at the hotel, I parked next to a car with one of the girls from my table, sitting there, all alone, eating. It's a shame we didn't think to talk about lunch arrangements before we had to eat, each in our aloneness. I guess we didn't learn much those first few hours of our communication class, like how to say "Hey, whatcha' doing for lunch? Want to go grab a bite with me?" We learned how to say that in the second half of our session. Go figure.

Needless to say, I got back to the hotel much earlier and found myself with time to waste. So I sat in my car and pretended to read a magazine, which was actually an old Kohls ad I found shoved under the seat. After a while, I remembered my new brave attitude and went inside with about 15 minutes of lunch to kill so I could sit in the room alone, and be totally OK with it. I had to visit the 'little girls room' anyway. While washing my hands in the sink, I glanced in the mirror, removing any stray pieces of lettuce and cranberries that always seem to get left behind, and noticed a slight bulge in my blouse. Now I'm not overly endowed by all means, and it wasn't until I arched my arms back did I notice that my middle button, the one strategically placed over the center of the bra, was not buttoned! What the crap! When did that happen? How long has it been that way? Have I been sitting in a classroom of people with my underwires exposed? Why didn't anyone tell me!

Oh yeah...I forgot. Communications class. Now I know why they're all there.

And as far as I'm concerned, they all flunked.

As for my unfortunate button incidence, I wish I could say there's a first for everything, (yes, it's happened before) and unfortunately, I'm sure it won't be my last.

And I thought the guy at Wendy's was smiling back at me to be nice.