Who wouldn't want to be me?

The other night I went to this big, fancy, intellectual lecture at UPS. I mean, it was BIG. Friends from the area will appreciate that people came TO Tacoma FROM Seattle to attend (actually, I couldn't verify that, but from the number of suits and ties present, I feel confident hazarding the guess).

The speaker was Nina Totenberg, a nationally and internationally acclaimed investigative reporter for NPR. She's on the frontlines of Washington DC politics. As I mentioned, people actually drove some distance to listen to her speak about the Supreme Court, even payed good money for tickets.

I went with a girl from my core group. Even with tickets, we had to show up a good thirty minutes early, and that was cutting it close. Not to worry, though. Ady's friends had come even earlier to save us good seats. Weaving through the suits, ties and aged ones, Ady and I looked for the promised seats. By chance, I glanced up on stage, where four rows of chairs had been arranged to either side of the podium. There, right in the very front, are two very empty chairs.

With a sinking fear in my gut, I tug at Ady's elbow. "Those wouldn't be your friends, would they?"

And, of course, they were.

But wait, it gets better.

I'd had 30 minutes between work and the lecture. The next day I left for Texas. There was laundry to do and dinner to eat. So, tearing off my work clothes, I'd thrown on a shirt that I knew I wouldn't want for Texas--indeed, a shirt that I usually reserve for very private circles.

It was my bright green, sparkly, somewhat too tight "I *heart* Nerds" shirt.

Perfectly fine for the dim anonymity of a crowded auditorium. Somewhat less ideal for front row seats directly beside the podium on a brightly lit stage and fully visible in every photograph taken for the newspaper.

A nice juxtaposition for her black suit dress and pearls, don't you think?