Fanciful

Testing the promises of my 48-hour deodorant

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Yep. Went to the wedding. I finished my dress in time and I prayed and partied like the experienced wedding-goer I am.

So beautiful of a wedding. Touches I especially loved: the flower girls giving flowers to the people on the ends of each pew and the bride and groom giving each mom a rose after they presented Mary one as well. Yes yes.

Good day, good party, good breakfast and mass Sunday morning. Even good drive to the airport. A little tight, but not bad.

And then. The airport. With the hour-long security line home to maybe 500 people.

“Excuse me?” I asked the man wearing an “I can help!” badge, “I have a flight leaving in an hour, is there a way for me to be processed faster?”

He shook his head, “No, sorry, you have to wait in this line.”

“Well,” I said, “could you call and tell my flight that I’m on my way, but might be late?”

Again the answer was no.

I tried. I ran from the security line to the in-airport train, belt and shoes off, my bag and paper shuffled in my arms.

I sprinted from the train to my terminal, hugging the corners, bounding up the escalator.

Alas. Missed it. Alas!

So, here I am, Monday morning, blessing the name of the sacred individual(s) who saw it fitting to create gluten-free bagels. Thank you, friends, thank you.

For those of you wondering, yes, I can fill you in on the success of the promises of my 48-hour deodorant later.

My fingers are the only comb my hair has seen–my other one successfully in Detroit without me.

Lololololol. You just never know what direction your life will take.

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