The Awkwardness of Easter Living

How embarrassing: Don't you hate it when you can't find your own car in the parking lot?

by Phyllis Palsma

With an armful groceries, you try to unlock the door to the minivan--only to discover your blue van is parked three cars down. (Have you ever counted the number of "patriot blue" vans in your grocer's parking lot?) Or worse, you sit in the driver's seat, inser the key into the ignition, and nothing happens. Then your eye catches the empty baby seat in the back. Your van hasn't held one of those for ten years. Grab the keys. Leap out. Red-faced, hustle with mustered-up dignity to the next aisle where the correct blue van is parked, all the while hoping there are no witnesses to your faux pas.

At the party, you extend your hand in greeting, while she reaches up for a hug. The flurry of hands and arms creates the awkward moment. Fortunately, you both smile at the inelegance of it. Someone across the room waves, and you wave back, but the greeting is for the guy standing behind you. After the meal you look in the morror and wonder: how long has that piece of broccoli been stuck in my teeth?

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