Andrea's tap class performed at a local senior center on Saturday. Since her dad couldn't make it, I was going to tape it on my camera (no video camera still since it was lost 8 months ago) so he could watch it. When her group was waiting in the wings, I tried to find the camera, which I always carry in my purse.
Gone. An image of it on the stairwell wall entered my mind and I kicked myself for leaving it behind. Determined to enjoy the dance despite my brain hiccup, I snuggled "Angel" close, who was on my lap, and beamed as my older daughter tapped her heart out. While I was clapping at the end, "Angel" climbed down to clap more fervently.
And guess what was on my lap, hidden under the little one?
Okay, it's one thing to kick yourself for leaving a camera at home when you meant to bring it, but it goes to a WHOLE 'nother level of self-name calling when you had the camera out and on your lap for easy use and forget it!
But that pales in comparison to this one:
I'm doing a signing in my hometown of Pendleton, OR on December 21. I've been working with the bookstore owner, Colleen, to set up all the details. I called her one night a few weeks ago when I was running around like crazy and trying to get to my divorce care class.
"Hi, Colleen. This is Christina Berry. I think that day should work well for the signing. My publicist is going to be in contact with you, and I'm hoping since it's my hometown that my old friends will stop in. Does that still work for you?"
"I'm sorry, Christina. What are we talking about here?"
"Um ... the signing later this month at your--" and suddenly I realize what I've done. One of the dorkiest things of the century. Am I talking with Colleen Yeske, bookstore owner?
NO! I've called Colleen Coble, best-selling author, whose number was still in my phone from ACFW!