Stringing Me Along

I just want to be clear.

Crystal Light clear.

I know that I have been saying things like, "Oh, I am off to London for a few days."

When I say things like that, please know that I have no misconceptions of being a high flyer or mistakenly think of myself as cool.

I oftentimes don't know what my work schedule will be like before I fly to these destinations, so I don't often get to use the time to re-unite with old friends who may be in those cities. I always plan to email them but knowing how often times, late nights at work or business dinners creep up, I sadly end up not getting to them with enough notice.

So I will usually work late, catch a casual dinner at a pub with colleagues and go back to my room and work until the wee hours of the morning, usually in preparation for some meeting the next day.

Room service on those late nights is not unusual.

And sometimes I even end up eating at restaurants alone.

Now, that may sound lonely, but in actuality, it's kind of nice. I do it rarely, as I will usually go wherever my colleagues want to go.

But on the rare occasion where they can't go out, I savor these times to myself.

Maybe it is the peace that comes with knowing I can order whatever I want on the menu without having to worry about when my two and a half year old Shaila is going to have a meltdown. Maybe it is because I don't have to cut up anybody's food into itty, bitty pieces while dodging said pieces of food when they come flying back at my head.

I don't have to give apologetic looks to surrounding tables because of the loud outbursts from Shaila, which then causes a subsequent outburst from Nico, my six month old.

When I leave, there are no surpising stickers stuck to my butt. Because it's always fun to come home after being out for several hours to find Hello Kitty hanging out on your freaking backside (which was never my best angle anyway).

And my kids are loud.

Like, really freaking loud.

Which is why we really don't go out that much. On the occassions where we brave it, we end up so miserable that I don't even have the energy to blog about it.

Well, almost don't have the energy. You know me, I freaking write about everything.

So, the other day, when I was going through Security at Washington Dulles, the cranky Security person pulled my purse aside after it went through the x-ray and asked if they could open it to check it.

I wasn't sure what the issue was. Had I left something liquid in there? Like a hand sanitizer? Were they going to bust me for having a lipgloss or something?

I was really worried, because I really am mortified when I do anything to slow down the security process. I try to do everything in record speed so that my fellow passengers won't get mad at me.

And that's when the Security crankster pulled out this long, white stick.

She looked at me in askance, and I looked back just as clueless. I could tell the rest of the people in the security line were also perplexed.

And then it hit me.

String Cheese.

String. Freaking. Cheese.

A Dried up, nasty ass piece of string cheese.

Shaila must have decided that she wanted me to have a memento of her.

(Ok, let's be honest. She probably got tired of the one she was eating one day and decided that my purse was as good a place as any to get rid of it. )

Oh no, she DIDN'T.

I could tell ALL the people behind me in line thought I was a total high roller.

Thanks, Shaila. Seriously, you're just. . . . Hmm. Well "The Best" just doesn't do you justice.

So please don't think that I think I am cool. The string cheese debacle just confirmed it. My life is one string cheese debacle after another and lest I ever think I am too cool for school, I am sure Girlfriend will knock me off my pedestal.

Cuz that's how she rolls.

XOXO,
Kiran