When life hands you lemons ...

Until just a few minutes ago, I didn't know what I was going to write about today. But, things change, and very rapidly, sometimes.

I was swapping funny stories with Robert, this morning, and we were having a good laugh about his most embarrassing moment, which happened when he was a child. He then asked me what MY most embarrassing moment was. "Geez," I said, "at my age, I've had so many." It was hard to know where to start. See, I'm a lot like Lucille Ball -- things just seem to happen to me that are out of my control... and then this one popped into my head.

When we lived in Granger, Indiana, my girls were 6, 8, and 10, and we had this nice, but very annoying little neighbor girl, Lisa, who always came over wanting to play. Like I said, she was a nice enough little girl, always well-behaved, and her mother was the new head of the PTA at the same elementary school where my youngest daughter went to school. But Lisa ALWAYS had a runny nose and, because of that, also continually had one of her fingers up her nose, mining for whatever sort of treasure she thought she could locate up there.

Needless to say, her visits were not looked forward to by my girls and, because of her nose-picking, they had a nasty nickname they called her behind her back ... as in, "Oh no! Here comes Lisa "picker". Mommy, PLEASE tell her we're not home. Please?"

I was the sort of mean mother who instilled in them that they had to be nice to everyone. They might be the only ones who were nice to that person all day and, besides, it was the right thing to do. I told them they didn't have to play with Lisa the whole day, but they were not going to be rude to her, either, by not answering the door when she rang the bell. (Down inside, I could hardly blame them, because this had become a daily thing and it continued all summer long ... plus, her habit really was disgusting. More than once I had to calm my gag reflex when I saw her do it).

After school started again, the time came when I had to go to my youngest daughter's school for a PTA meeting. Suddenly, at my elbow stood Lisa's mother, the head of the PTA, smiling broadly at me ... and I was standing there talking with several other mothers, who were friends and neighbors, all of which were waiting for an introduction, since the head of the PTA obviously seemed to know me.

Her first name I knew -- Janice. That was easy enough, so I began the introductions ... "Ladies, I'd like you to meet Janice Puh Puh ..." That's all I got out, just the puh-puh, and I knew I sounded like I was spitting peanut shells or, maybe, blowing out a candle -- DAMN, what was her last name? Quick -- the last name! All I could think of was picker ... Picker ... Picker??? Crap! PICKER ... oh my God! What the hell was her REAL last name?

My mind was speeding, racing at a dangerous pace, trying to come up with SOMEthing, ANYthing but "picker", but I was drawing a total blank! My face must have given me away, because thankfully, Lisa's mother kindly broke the uncomfortable silence by graciously holding out her hand and saying to my friends, "Hello, I'm Janice Pinskey. I'm so glad you could come to the meeting ..."

My daughters STILL love to hear the story ... oh, and to save myself from any further embarrassment, the names have been changed so I could share this with you ....