Monday, November 28, 2011


Before I attempt to catch up on an entire summer and fall in picture and word, let me attempt to tell you of another accomplishment.

I have managed to pull off every woman's nightmare. I've seen it done in Hollywood, but nothing in Hollywood is real. No one actually does such embarrassing stuff in real life. I know stuff like this happens, just not to me.

Until yesterday.

I was in a hurry to get to church yesterday. Procrastination from the night before had me all a-flutter to get to the church on time. I paraded in front of my husband, and the mirror, gave myself a semi-passing grade, then flew out the door.

As I barrelled into the parking lot, a quick survey of the scene found only a good friend helping his family out of the van, and a rather shy church member heading for the front door. I rushed to the door, in too much of a hurry to say hello to my friend. I arrived at the door the same time the shy man did. He being the gentleman that he is, opened the door for me. I gushed a thank you in a dramatic flurry toward the chapel. I rushed up to the front, breathing a heavy hello to the handful of choir members already seated in the stand, pretty proud of the fact that I was "on time", which is translated to say that I was late, just not as late as everyone else.

As I gathered my overly dramatic wits about me while setting up at my post at the piano, I chatted with another friend who was already seated in the choir seats. Seeing that I had a few seconds to spare, I headed back down the stairs to put my bag on "our" bench to save it for my family who would come later. Upon turning around, my friend gasped.

The back of my skirt was tucked up in my panty hose.


I began doing what most of us do when faced with absolute mortification. I acted all nonchelant as a I reconned my rogue piece of clothing, then mentally retraced my steps from my van to the church to take mental note of the poor souls that had been unfairly mooned on their way to church.

I was instantly horrified to remember some poor choices that I had made that morning. You know thekind. The kind of choices that you feel silly about making, but choices that shouldn't have any consequences, nonetheless. Like when you choose not too shave your legs above the knee,or to wear pantyhose shredded beyond recognition, not really caring 'cause who is going to see up your skirt anyway?


Those choices.

I then thought of my poor friend unloading his family in the parking lot. And the poor unsuspecting do-gooder just trying to be nice, not realizing that volunteering to open my door meant standing behind my bare behind.

I am pretty sure I wasn't imagining things when neither of those men made eye contact with me that morning. Apparently one shot of your bare derriere does an uncomfortable moment make.


When I finally got to go sit down with my family, my husband got a little reproach for not being a better detail checker. He sympathetically snorted and chuckled as I told him my terrible tale. My son just looked at me in horrible disbelief.

"Oh, Mom. I am soooo sorry", was all he could muster.

His was the only genuine sentiment I would receive for the rest of the day.

I have been blessed with such sympathetic friends.