I’ve been invited to an 80s themed birthday party at the end of the month and for weeks I’ve been trying to decide what to wear.

Now to me, the 80s was a wonderful time. I was in high school, I had MTV, I had a car that seated about 20, I had fun friends, one of whom just found me on Facebook.

And I had a closet full of clothes. (okay, I do now, too, but they’re larger sized and not nearly as fun)

I spent my weekends at the mall and my evenings at the sewing machine. I had mini skirts and leopard print and the Flashdance sweatshirt and the Madonna gloves. I had long sweaters and leggings and denim mini skirts. I had the Frankie Says Relax T-shirt and the Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go T-shirt.

I listened from everything from Journey to The Ramones, though I loved New Wave best.

So I’m trying to decide what to wear to this party, what I can adapt from what I have to wear, what I can whip up really quickly. The Guess jeans I spent my income tax return on one year no longer fit, but I do still have some earrings and I think gloves. What would you wear if you were going?

I don’t like resolutions. They always disappoint me. Or do I disappoint them? Either way, resolutions aren’t satisfying to me. And this year I resolve to be satisfactory.

Okay. Maybe resolutions are not likeable, but a little necessary, kind of like laundry and cleaning the bathroom.

One of the first decisions I made about life for me in 2010 is to stop blogging. When I told my NobodyWritesItBetter blog sisters that I was dropping the blogging because I realized I didn’t like it, there was a hue and cry to begin a movement to drop the above mentioned laundry and bathroom cleaning. Unfortunately, most of us will be stuck with those things for the foreseeable future.

So how do you deal with things you don’t like? I have a few tried and true methods. I’ll use my personal history with laundry chores as a case study in the set of finely honed skills I’ve acquire through years of Dealing (as in Dealing with fill in the blank.)

PROCRASTINATION—Yep. Wait until the baskets runneth over and you’re wearing your last clean outfit, which is a Sunday dress, to the Laundromat.

In the early years of my housekeeping, I had to make weekly trips to the Laundromat, which in Florida, in the summer, is akin to visiting the suburbs of hell. Yea. Put that off as long as you can.

FOCUS ON THE REWARD—Clean underwear.

When I acquired a washer, but no dryer, laundry had to be a daily task— pinned on the line by nine a.m. (before clothespins were a craft item) to be brought in sunny and fresh before the afternoon rain. A total of about three hours a day devoted to laundry. Sun-drenched, crisp, fresh sheets. Priceless.

MAKE THE TASK PLEASURABLE—Good tools, good atmosphere.

I’ve finally achieved ultimate laundry bliss. No, I don’t have a house servant. Even better, I have an air-conditioned laundry room stocked with state-of-the-art washer and dryer, organized sorting bins, detergent dispensers, folding table and hanging racks. It’s a thing of beauty, refined and designed by years of experience, trial and error, sweat and fashions best not recalled.

So what does this have to do with giving up blogging, you ask? Not much, except the fact that some things cannot be given up, only dealt with. When you must deal with a task that can’t be given up, you cope. You strategize. You plan and make it better.

I’ve dealt with exercise by playing tennis with a team instead of working out in a gym. I’ve dealt with meal planning by learning to cook fresh ingredients with a lot of flavor.

But some things in life, you’re allowed to choose not to deal with. After several years of trying to convince myself that those little nuggets bouncing around in my head are worth someone else spending time reading, I’m throwing in the towel. Those are my nuggets and I think I’ll just let them bounce around. I’m dealing with blogging by not dealing with it any longer.

Hope you get a good Deal in this New Year.

Signing off,

Teresa Brown

I know the holiday is behind us. We’re climbing free of the mountains of shredded wrapping paper and the tangle of ribbon. Our trees look forlorn and naked without the heaps of packages underneath them, and if we hear the saccharine strains of one more Christmas song, we’ll heave something heavy at the stereo, but I couldn’t leave the holiday behind without talking about my favorite Christmas tradition: the holiday movie!

In my house, it’s forbidden to watch Christmas movies before Thanksgiving. So by the end of November, pulling out the stack of DVDs is like opening a gift a month early. Holiday movies are a time for all of us to curl up on the couch under mounds of blankets with bowls of popcorn. We begin right after Thanksgiving with THE MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET—the original with Maureen O’Hara and Natalie Wood, of course. From there, each night brings a new jewel of Christmases past.
The classics:

WHITE CHRISTMAS with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye.
Barbara Stanwyck and Dennis Morgan in CHRISTMAS IN CONNECTICUT.
THE HOMECOMING—a TV special that spawned the Waltons television series.
IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE—no explanation needed

Then there are the ones we cherish from our childhood:

RUDOLPH THE RED NOSED REINDEER
FROSTY THE SNOWMAN
HOW THE GRINCH STOLE CHRISTMAS
A CHARLIE BROWN CHRISTMAS
THE CHRISTMAS STORY—“you’ll shoot your eye out, kid.”

And finally, newer additions to Hollywood’s celebration of the holiday:

CHRISTMAS VACATION
ELF
THE POLAR EXPRESS
THE SANTA CLAUSE
SCROOGED
THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS

As you can see, we spend a lot of nights this way!

Some families bake. Some stand in freezing lines of shoppers on Black Friday. Still others get together for caroling parties or to trim the tree. We all have our own ways of connecting during the season. My family chooses to come together to watch a host of feel-good Christmas films. And as I put away the decorations, sort through the presents, and eat the last gingerbread cookie, I know that next year will bring a return of a treasured tradition: the holiday movie.

Does your family have a special way to celebrate the season? Or a favorite movie you have to watch every year? I’d love to add to my list!

This one is for all you writers out there.
‘Tis the season to deck the halls, bake the cookies, balance the checkbook while shopping for presents, get the kids to choir practice, write—write? How do we write when every ounce of brain power is being used to juggle schedules and multi-task? How do we write when our brains are being holiday-ized into a total frenzy?

Those of you who are on a deadline, stop here. This post is not for you. But for the rest of us—take a deep breath. Count to ten. Stop feeling guilty. Remember, you can do anything, but you can’t do everything.

Here’s the plan. We want to feel writerly, afterall that’s who we are. But there’s one part of writing that most of us neglect and now’s the time to painlessly and joyfully fill that void. Read.

That’s right, read a book. How many of us haven’t read nearly as much since we started writing? Miss it, don’t you? And your writing suffers, especially in the ideas department. Make December your reading month and you’ll fill the creative well and be ready to start anew January first. Reading now is your best hope to fulfilling that New Years resolution.

How do you squeeze in the time to read? Take a book with you every where you go. Read while standing in those long checkout lines. Read while you’re waiting for those cookies to bake. Read during children’s parties, while you’re waiting to drive the carpool here and there. Keep a book close by and you’ll be suprised at how much reading you can do.

And don’t forget audiobooks. Got to clean house for company? Pop on a pair of earphones and dustmop the floor while you have a couple of chapters delivered straght to your ears. I go to my local library or download from audiobooks.com. (They download via whispernet to Kindles, too.)
UPDATE: I just found out that you can download from audible.com to your iPhone, iPod, GPS (yes! your GPS), almost anything that talks. So no excuses! I found this link to make it easy for you. Find out if your listening device is AudibleReady! Search the 500+ devices compatible with Audible audiobooks.

And while you’re taking this opportunity to exercise your mind, stretch a bit and read in a genre you’ve never read before. Ask friends and family about their favorite authors. Be adventurous and pick something off one of the Best Seller lists that you normally would never read. Read a writing craft book, or a screenplay book, or an inspirational book like Anne Lamont’s Bird by Bird.

And have the most relaxed, most gulit-free and most joyous holiday season you’ve ever had.

What do you recommend I add to my December reading list?

This is my last Nobody Writes It Better post for 2009, and this has been one helluva strange year for me. We’ve moved our entire household twice. (And yes, each move was every bit as painful as you might think.  >:-/ ) But now I’m unpacking into a large home office and experiencing fresh glee every time I come across something I love. Given that this is the week after (American) Thanksgiving and these items definitely inspire my gratitude, I thought I’d share them with you.

My Favorite Home Office / Writer’s Office Things:

1. Bookshelf Space.

Okay, so I can only fit three of my seven bookshelves in here along the wall. That’s because the second wall has all my desks/tables/surface area, the third wall is all sunny bay window, and the fourth side has two doors (bathroom and closet), a ginormous lateral filing cabinet…and a built-in bookshelf. Hooray for home builders with taste. (And for the husband who let me snag the master bedroom for my business office!)

2. My Amazon Kindle.

Great for uploading manuscripts to proof AND for downloading fun books. I’m currently reading Jana Oliver’s Sojourn and George Carlin’s Last Words.

3. Sunshine.

See aforementioned bay window. And one side of it looks out over the Sierra Nevadas. Now see aforementioned thumbs-up to husband.

4. Feline Assistants.

No writer’s office is complete without at least one. Especially if that one is skilled at “helping” me unpack.

I have to admit this is a pretty darned great setup.

What would make this space perfect?

1. Better heating. It’s only 63 degrees in this room in the mornings, thanks in part to those bay windows. For a former Georgia Peach, that calls for drastic measures. I’ve installed a space heater near my ankles and have a pair of gloves with USB-powered heating elements. Seriously.

2. A super comfy recliner for reading. Probably located next to the bay window. (I could always drape an electric blanket over it. )

3. A real desk, instead of my “slab of wood on top of two short filing cabinets” plus folding card tables setup. Still, surface area is surface area. And with a clutter monkey like me, it’ll all be used soon. And meanwhile, at least I have a couple of really good desk chairs.

You probably have ideas for a perfect writing, working, or reading space. What do you want in yours?

The life of a writer ain’t glamorous, that’s for sure. I know—insert my childrens’ eye-rolls here along with their snarky comment. “Call the Waaambulance!”

My next release, Breakfast in Bed was set to launch December first, so I’ve been frantically writing blogs for a month-long tour that was supposed to end the same day my next book, As Good as He Gets, is due on my editor’s desk. Needless to say, I was feeling a little stressed. It didn’t help matters when I received an email from my editor breaking the news that there was something wrong with the shipment of Breakfast in Bed. (Pause and take a deep breath, it’s just a couple of bumps right?) It seems that the red foil on the cover was sticking more to people’s hands than to the books. The entire shipment had to be sent back and reprinted. The new shipment is scheduled to hit the warehouse on the same day they were supposed to have hit the shelves. It’s a long and bumpy road we writers travel…

Luckily, most of the blog tour was rescheduled for a January launch. So, for everyone who is looking forward to buying Breakfast in Bed, it’s just gonna be a little late. The good thing is the reviews I’ve seen so far have been amazing. It received a 4-star review in Romantic Times Magazine, and a 5-Heart, Reviewers Top-Pick from Night Owl Romance.

I know there are always bumps in the road and you have to make due. So what’s the problem? I’m glad you asked. I expect the bumps, but what I didn’t expect was the huge pot holes I might encounter like the barrage of ugly and hurtful comments about writing romance I received in the last week.

Sure, I’ve heard other writers talk about how authors of romantic fiction get no respect, and I’ve heard my share of “When are you going to start writing real books?” I usually hit them with facts about romantic fiction sales, as well as the intelligent and well-educated women who write and read the genre. This last week I had one woman tell me she read my book and was surprised that it had a plot. That one rolled off my back. The next one was when I was waiting for Twinkle Toes to get dressed after dance so we could leave. One of the other dance moms asked how the book was going and the lady sitting next to me said “Oh you wrote Romeo, Romeo. I read it.” I thanked her and said that I hoped she enjoyed it. She gave me a funny look and said, “I usually don’t read those books, but it was cute.” I just smiled and said “Thanks, I think.” But Friday the 13th, I was left speechless. And for those who know me, speechless is not a state with which I’m familiar. It was a first.

I was at my daughter’s middle school to see her accept her entrée into the Honor Society. Yay! For me, it was a proud moment. For my youngest, it was all about the doughnuts the kids received after they shook the principal’s hand and were given their certificate of achievement and the highly coveted bumper sticker. After wearing her doughnut, and my taking three, count them, three napkins to clean her face off, she left the cafeteria with napkin lint covering her smiling, chubby face.

The eighth graders piled in so I got my things together to leave when a woman I used to see at the gym arrived. I’m tempted to call her by name, but I won’t because I’m not quite that mean. She asked why I hadn’t been to the gym. So I explained about my crazy life—home schooling Twinkle Toes, driving three hours a day, yada, yada, yada. Then she asked if I was still writing. Since I’m always prepared—I’m married to an ex-boy scout, after all—I whip out my beautiful bookmark, which has all three of my book covers on it. Surprised, she said, “You have three books out?” I nodded and told her I was working on my fourth. By this time, most of the 8^th grade had come in and their proud parents surrounded us. Gym Woman waves to everyone in the vicinity, and let me tell you, the place was packed, and at the top of her voice she says, “Robin writes trashy romances. I mean filthy, smutty, trashy romances.”

KLUNK – There went the front axel. I was now the center of attention, and I didn’t know what the heck to say. Then she asked why I didn’t get a real job, like teaching English. Thank God another woman who had a functioning brain stopped and asked me for one of my bookmarks. I handed her one. The wonderful woman looked at it, “You wrote Romeo, Romeo?” I nodded, still speechless. “Didn’t Romeo, Romeo win several awards?” By this time, I found my voice and said, “Yes, it did.” That’s when she turned to Gym Woman and smiled. “It’s so nice to meet an award winning author. I can’t wait for her next book.”

I’m sure that woman will be sainted in the near future. I thanked her and noticed that Gym Woman was nowhere to be found. I spent the rest of the day stewing about Gym Woman and I’ve realized something. While it felt like I hit a huge pot hole, I realized it was really only one more bump in the road. There will always be those who try to knock people down, but as a very good friend of mine said “They can’t knock you down unless you’re up there in the first place.” I got a lot of writing done that day just to spite Gym Woman. I wrote a fabulous fight scene and pictured her face the whole time I was doing it.

Sometimes the bumps in the road can be more than just a pain in the ass. They can cause emotions. You can decide whether you are going to let those bumps lead to something positive or allow them to defeat and damage you like a pot hole might your car. How you choose to look at them is entirely up to you. If I didn’t have a book due, I may have cleaned my whole house. That’s what I used to do whenever I got a mad-on. Anger is a very powerful motivator, as long as you use it for your own good. You can let things eat at you and fester, or you can turn all that power and emotion into something wonderful. In my case, it was a fight scene and believe me, it was one of the most satisfying fight scenes I’ve ever written.

So how do you handle your bumps in the road?

The current year is quickly coming to a close. (Thank, God.  As many of you know, 2009 was not particularly good to me.) Therefore, not much time is left to keep our annual resolutions or reach our yearly goals.  Too often we establish objectives for ourselves, and then the moment we experience a setback or realize we can’t clear the bar we’ve set for ourselves, many of us throw our hands up in total defeat.  I tend to be a perfectionist, so this is especially true for me.  We frequently quit striving despite that we might experience at least a partial success if we would just forge ahead.

My resolution back in January 2009 was to lose 50 pounds, and my professional goal was to write one new book.  Anyone who’s acquainted with me can tell you I haven’t lost a pound, and if anything, I’ve gained a few. (or at least I hope it was only a few)  And other than receiving a fifth nomination for the Golden Heart (the entry for which I actually submitted in December 2008), I also accomplished very little writing-wise this year.  So I may seem like the last person who should address the topic of resolutions and goals.

In reality, my reign as the 2009 poster child for what NOT to do if you want to meet your commitments to yourself has made me an expert on the subject.  Here’s my personal checklist of what NOT to do.

• Don’t allow your health or physical condition to deteriorate.  Doctors visits, tests, and medical procedures not only chew up a lot of precious writing time, but they also leave an individual too distracted to concentrate fully, thereby interrupting one’s creative process. The sedentary act of reading or writing leaves us highly susceptible to illness and weight gain and, in the end, too tired to accomplish much.  It’s important that we make a concerted effort to get enough exercise and eat a healthy diet. (Yes, I know this is beginning to sound like a love letter to myself.)

I’ve been reading a book called Flip the Switch (a guide to resetting the metabolism) by Robert K Cooper, PhD.  He recommends eating six to eight snacks throughout the day (every two to three hours), rather than consuming meals, to keep the metabolism constantly stoked.  Cooper also advocates drinking a gallon of ICE water throughout the day; a) to flush toxins from your body and b) because drinking cold liquids forces your system to work harder to maintain its normal body temperature.

The book also claims we should avoid sitting for more than 30 minutes at any one time.  (Ooops, there goes my alarm to run downstairs to have my 4 oz. container of low fat yogurt, a glass of ice water, and a bathroom break.) BRB

Okay, I’m back.  I know getting up every 30 minutes is a little extreme and too structured to get much accomplished.  Just about the time I get into the zone writing, it’s time to get up again.  So I’m compromising and setting my timer for every 45 minutes and running up and down the stairs twice (with an ice water and bathroom break between trips and a snack if it’s time) and heading right back to whatever I was doing.

Cooper maintains that constantly moving throughout the day keeps the basal metabolic rate consistently high, whereas a standard 30-60 minute hour workout only gives a boost for a few hours.  (That’s not to say one shouldn’t also do strength training to build muscle.)  So that’s what I’m trying to do.  I’ll let you know how it works.

• Don’t allow yourself get to become too distracted by yahoo loops, blogs, e-mail, research, and the Internet in general.  To remedy this, I’m trying to limit myself to one hour a day to read and respond to message boards, blogs, and e-mail.  Again, I’m using a timer.  I’ll also let you know how that works out.

• Don’t plan more than two vacations a year.  I hate to discourage anyone from getting away and enjoying life.  However, I have to list this because it was one of the big reasons I accomplished so little this year.  By the end of 2009, my total getaways will add up to SIX. (I know, poor me.  Boo-hoo, I had to go away six times!) The problem was I spent so much time planning, researching, and booking reservations for rental cars, flights, hotels, shows, restaurants, and attractions I feel like an amateur travel agent.  And don’t get me started on how much time I spent packing and unpacking or how eating in restaurants on six vacations did nothing to help me keep my resolution to lose weight.

• Don’t let yourself get too involved in socializing and partying. (I’m writing this after spending three solid weeks concentrating on planning my daughter-in-law’s baby shower.)  Inasmuch as I highly recommend entering the Golden Heart, I must also warn about the big pitfall that comes with it if you’re a finalist–you make so many wonderful new friends it’s difficult not to get caught up in spending a lot of your usual writing time with them.  Not to mention, all that partying also did nothing to reduce my waistline.

• Don’t find excuses not to work at your goal EVERY day.  Even if you only have enough time to write one sentence or do a tiny bit toward your objective (like climb an extra flight of stairs), do it.  Any idiot knows that if you consistently focus on your goals, you’re more likely to achieve them.  Once you get started doing whatever it is you need to do, you’ll find it’s easy to continue.

Do you see a common thread in this message?  The solution to reaching our objectives and keeping resolutions can be summed up in one word.  DISCIPLINE.   At the same time, we also shouldn’t expect the impossible from ourselves.

Everyone’s life is different, and, therefore, everyone’s list of DOs and DON’Ts vary.  An effective motivational program should only include objectives that are actually attainable and place YOU in control of whether you succeed.  Setting goals that you have little or no control over is pointless and a surefire recipe for failure. Set your targets at a challenging level but not so high that success will be impossible to achieve.

There goes that dang alarm again.  Gotta run!

Before I go, what are some of the obstacles in your way, and what do you need to put at the top of your “Things Not to Do If You Want to Reach Your Goals” list?

I’m also blogging at http://www.rubyslipperedsisterhood.com today, so stop over and say hi.

I recently had a birthday. And while I won’t divulge my age, let’s just say there was a big, fat “0” at the end of it. Now birthdays don’t usually bother me. After all, inside I feel an eternal fifteen. You know that awkward age where you feel insecure, lacking in confidence and constantly comparing yourself to everyone around you, imagining they have it miraculously together while you wallow in self-doubt.

But I digress.

As I said, getting older has yet to hold too many fears. But this birthday did start me thinking about those things still on my bucket list. That great lifelong to-do. So I sat down to write them out. And sat. And stared. And sat some more. Here’s what I finally came up with after much pondering and in no particular order:

1. Travel (this requires getting over a fear of flying which should probably be #1)
2. Get over fear of flying (if birds can do it . . . )
3. Live abroad (no specified duration or place—just sounds fun)
4. Learn to fence (my inner Errol Flynn complex rearing its ugly head)
5. Hit the NYT list (a writer can dream, can’t she?)
6. Remodel my bathrooms (if this were on my husband’s bucket list, they might get renovated faster!)

That was it! Six measly items! Have I done it all? Hardly! But the more I thought, the more I realized I’m comfortable with where I am and what I’ve accomplished to this point in my life. Are there things that will be added to my bucket list in the future? Sure, it’s a definite work in progress. As is my life. But right now, ?0 seems a pretty comfortable place to be.

Maybe I’ve matured internally more than I thought. Maybe I’ve finally left inner adolescence behind. Goodbye gawky fifteen! Hello wise and sensible twenty-one!

At least on the inside!

How about you? What’s on your bucket list? Or have you been there, done that, and seen everything?

We’re on the internet and things are (mostly) anonymous.  So, be honest… What does your house look like when there isn’t any company coming?

If you’re one of those people who have beautiful, tidy, organized homes, the kind of person who always straightens up before you go to bed or leave the house, then I applaud you. If you’re one of those people who vacuums daily (and I have friends who do!), my hat is off.  If you’re one of those people (hi, Mom!) who never leaves your clean laundry in the dryer to get all wrinkled… wow, want to come visit me??

I am not one of those people.  My house generally looks like a bomb just went off it.  And it doesn’t seem to matter how much cleaning we do.  Even if our house is neat as a pin when company arrives, within 48 hours, we’re back to our normal, cluttered house.

Now, we’re not squalid, I should point out!  We do the dishes and scrub the toilets regularly.  I run the mini-vac daily (or more often!) to clean up the crumbs in the kitchen and the leaves that get tracked in the back door.  But the thing is… we have clutter.  We have a lot of clutter.

There’s the mail that piles up by the front door.  Not the junk mail; that’s easy to discard.  It’s the other papers, the ones that we need to keep but don’t necessarily have to DO something with that accumulate so quickly. The bank statements (that we check online anyway), the bills (that we pay electronically), the statements from our insurance company (we know, you’re not paying for this test or that doctor’s visit).  The magazines that we do read and enjoy, but maybe just haven’t had time to get to yet.  There are the stacks and stacks of papers that the kidlet brings home from school, homework and classwork and exams that we need to look at or send back.  (We won’t even go into toys.  I swear they multiply at night while we sleep.)  My husband brings home books and papers from work.

And I have pages and scribbled thoughts from my latest manuscript.  To-do lists and notes for the websites I’m currently designing.  Knitting patterns and yarn and needles for my latest knitting project.  A stack of books by my bed in my to-be-read pile.

I used to view our clutter as a sign of failure, a testimony that I was failing to live up to the high standards my mother set (and I assure you, her house is almost always spotless… or at least it is when we’re not visiting!). I used to find it depressing, and it added to my overall stress level.

But not too long ago, I had a change of heart.  I looked at a picture of one of those “decorator” homes… you know, the beautifully decorated rooms that have nothing in them.  Big, spacious, empty rooms.  Shelves with one carefully chosen objet d’art, instead of crammed with books and photos.  Chairs and sofas that were probably more comfortable than they looked… but with no books or yarn in reach.  And I realized something.  Our house is cluttered because interesting, creative people live here.  My husband plays guitar and writes music in his spare time.  The kidlet is obsessed with animation at the moment, and leaves piles of storyboard-like pages all over the house.  I am a writer, a web-designer, and an avid knitter.  Our home reflects who we are and what interests us.

And so my house won’t make the front page of any decorator magazine.  My mom may suppress a shudder when she visits and wonder where she went wrong in raising me.  But we’re happy and creative and comfortable here, and isn’t that what the idea of “home” is really all about?  You won’t be bored if you visit us!  Hey, want to learn to knit?  I’ve got some extra yarn and needles right here…

So tell me… what kind of home do you have?  Are you really tidy?  Have any tips or tricks for those of us who aren’t?  If you have clutter, too, how do you feel about it?  Does it make you feel anxious or depressed, or have you come to a place of peace with it?

Or…Airport Nightmares

*Names have been changed to protect the mildly insane.

Traveling can be a nightmare. Whether you’re flying for pleasure, business, or personal reasons, it seems like you can’t spend any time in an airport these days without at least one minor thing going wrong. Or maybe ten minor things. Or eighteen major things. The more you travel, the greater the likelihood that you will encounter airport aggravation. No one knows this better than my friend, Claudia. (Apologies to any real Claudia Zenks out there. I promise, this is not you. I told my Claudia that I would use a fake name for her story, and Claudia Zenk was the first that popped to mind. It has a nice ring to it, no?) (And when I say, “my friend,” I really do mean “my friend.” ie. NOT me). Phew, I think I’m covered.

A year or two ago, my friend Claudia needed to travel to her hometown several times over the course of many months to help her family through a difficult time. Things grew so harrowing for awhile there that she flew to her hometown four or five times in one month! This was only a one-hour flight. One would think, considering everything Claudia had to handle between helping her family and maintaining her job and raising two young children, that the airport gods could have given her a break. Not so. Every time Claudia went to the airport during that month, another disaster befell her. Sometimes it was a minor disaster, sometimes plain ol’ SNAFU and FUBAR up the mother-effin’ whazoo. Now, Claudia is a wonderful person. Claudia is kind to rodents, dust bunnies, and chocolate bars. There’s no reason why the airport gods should dislike her so. There’s no reason (well, maybe a tiny bit of a reason) why, during one of these airport atrocities, Claudia should have discovered that the airline clerk had typed “belligerent” into her customer profile. But let’s just say that Claudia did discover this. And let’s just say that CLAUDIA HAD HAD ENOUGH.

Claudia did not need another airport disaster. Surely, on the fourth or fifth trip home to help her family, Claudia WOULD NOT say or do anything to tick off the airline personnel, thereby reducing her chances of having her “belligerent” status withdrawn. Surely, Claudia could make one visit to her hometown where everything at the airport would proceed smoothly.

Claudia did not take Herself into account.

Yes, sometimes Claudia’s airport nightmares are self-induced.

Now, Claudia is a superb athlete. Claudia is one of those warped breed of women who not only run for exercise but because they :::shudder::: like it. Because running helps them tap into a part of the brain that allows them to forget their worries and just exist. To be one with the wind and the sun and the sky and the path beneath their feet and all that crap. So, a few hours before Claudia needed to travel to the airport on the tail end of her last trip to her hometown during that flight-jammed month, she decided the best possible thing she could do for her mental well-being was go for a run.

Claudia donned her running gear and hauled herself to a massive provincial park near where I live that has a myriad of running paths as well as an utterly amazing view of a glittering lake:

It also has rattlesnakes and cougars and coyotes and cactus, so some might question Claudia’s decision to run in the park alone. But that’s a topic for another day.

The end result was, Claudia was at the park. So Claudia did what Claudia does. She ran. She ran and ran and ran. Her stress and worries melted away. Because she’s basically The Bionic Woman reborn, Claudia ran until all the rattlesnakes and cougars and coyotes and cacti chasing her collapsed and died on the sides of the path.

When Claudia runs, if she notices pretty stones on or near her path, she likes to pick them up for her two young children. On this day, Claudia discovered stones her children would love! Alas, alack, amiss, Claudia realized upon gathering the stones that she did not have a pocket to put them in. So Claudia did what any (mildly insane) mother would do. She stuffed the stones in her bra. Then continued running. She ran and ran and ran. She ran until her stress was almost/nearly alleviated. Or maybe it was completely annihilated. I honestly can’t recall.

Claudia finished her run and returned to her childhood home. There, it dawned on her that she did not have time before her flight for a shower. So she sponged herself clean, then changed into her traveling clothes and proceeded to the airport.

Now, it’s a small airport. One would think that the security lines would be short. One would be wrong. Sometimes the security lines are miles and miles (okay, kilometers, this is Canada, after all) long. Whether the lines were long on this particular day or not, I don’t recall. I just had to point that out. Couldn’t let the whole focus of my post be on Claudia, could I?

As Claudia proceeded through the line, she thought surely nothing would go wrong this time. The security personnel would not confiscate her homemade jam (calling it over-sized liquid, the nerve!) They would not attempt to rip the soles off her sandals to determine if the beeping of the security arch was due to whatever type of metal thingie is put into good shoes. They would not wand her in indiscreet places before realizing that another instance of beeping was a result of tiny metal eyelets on her boarding shorts. They would not put her through any of that trauma (or the traumas that had resulted in her “belligerent” status, which are too lengthy to go into). And, in fact, they did not. Not this time.

Claudia managed it all on her own.

Claudia walked through the security arch. No beeping. Yippee! Then the Airport Security Lady (let’s call her Sally) told her, “You’ve been randomly selected for a body search.” Yes, just the sort of thing a haggard traveler loves to hear. The gentleman behind Claudia in line laughed.

Claudia was not amused. Did I mention that Claudia HAD HAD ENOUGH? However, she did not rail or vent her frustrations out on Sally. She just didn’t care anymore. She just wanted to let Sally do whatever she had to do so Claudia could board the plane and fly home to her husband and two small children.

Claudia was resigned.

So when Sally asked Claudia if she wanted to go into a private room for the search, Claudia declined. “Just do it here,” she said. “Get it over with.” After all, Claudia had nothing to hide.

Sally began to pat Claudia down. When Sally reached Claudia’s…bosom area…well, I don’t know how much or what sort of patting occurred. The regular sort of patting, I guess. It’s not like Sally grabbed Claudia’s hooters or anything. But Sally discovered…something odd in the sides of Claudia’s bra. Something Claudia had totally forgotten she’d put there.

Bless Claudia’s little ol’ Canuck heart, when Sally asked, “What are you carrying in your bra?”, Claudia suddenly remembered and answered with a completely straight face, “Rocks.”

“Remove them, please,” said Sally with an equally straight face. (One can only imagine what Sally reported to her friends and family later).

Claudia reached into her bra and removed the rocks. She handed the rocks to Sally, who set them on the conveyor on the “out” side of the X-Ray machine.

Sally continued to pat Claudia down. Alas, alack, amiss, Sally did not discover anything else unusual. Finished, Sally asked Claudia, “Would you like your rocks back?”

Now, blog readers, I ask…what would you do?

Claudia answered in a perfectly solemn tone, “Yes.”

Sally handed Claudia back her rocks—and our dear Claudia stuffed them into her bra! Not in her jacket pockets. Not in her purse. In her bra. And she took them home to her grateful children. Who I’m pretty sure, to this day, have no clue of the extent of their mother’s insanity love for them.

I don’t know about you, but that’s the best Airport Nightmares story I’ve ever heard. I definitely can’t top Claudia’s tale. Can you? What’s your most embarrassing airport moment?