Did you ever wish you had your own personal lifeguard, one who was on duty 24/7, to keep an eye out for those little traumas that life might bring your way?
No, nothing truly traumatic has happened to me. Just the usual emotional dramas and mid-winter feeding frenzy. I need a lifeguard to blow his whistle every time I step into the kitchen. Wouldn't that be great for dieting?
"Thweeeeeet! Don't even THINK about putting that in your mouth!"
I went to a friend's play reading this morning. She's participating in a year-long contest sponsored by the Eventide Arts Association here on Cape Cod. Unfortunately, due to either the time of day or the iffy weather, there was a very low turn-out. So I got roped into being one of her readers. Argh!
I survived, but felt like I really needed a lifeguard to blow his whistle (or call my cell phone) and rescue me from embarrassment.
"Thweeeeeet! Get off of that stage right now, lady, before someone gets hurt!"
Her play, however, is really coming along. Hopefully she can scrounge up better actresses next time.
Or maybe my lifeguard will show up for duty.