Still Polly

  "Get in here," I hollered. "There's great art in here and it's CHEAP!" Bob was pacing on the sidewalk outside a shop in some little town in Michigan. He was being very nice about letting me wander in and out of shops, and it was a pretty day out so he didn't mind waiting outside. We had discussed shopping for original art on our short trip, because we both love original pieces and have been wanting to slowly grow our collection. I thought I had struck gold. It was exactly the type of boutique I love. Lots of variety, something for everyone, and the prices were decent. You had the usual touristy shwag, but a little more elevated than the tee shirt shops. Housewares, jewelry, home decor, fashion, you name it they had it. But the big draw for me was finding some original pieces of art that weren't break-the-bank expensive.  Bob and I started flipping through one bin of prints and I was oohing and ahhing, but when I looked at him I had my answer: not h...

Oh no, I thought. Here it comes, I sighed. "Go around the room and share."  Going around the room and sharing is an introvert's worst nightmare. Especially with strangers. I can't go first unless forced to. But the more others share, the more nervous I start to get. At some point it always happens that I decide to just get it over with, and trip over someone else who has spoken up at the same time. Awkward. I defer to them of course so I can hold off talking for as long as possible. But inevitably it's my turn. I don't actually hear what I'm saying, but something comes out, and usually I have to get some kind of humor in to try and calm myself, so I hear people laughing but it's not much consolation.  I'm participating in a thing from October through next May called the 19th Annotation. This is a form of the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola, and it's really an Ignatian retreat "in daily life." It's led by a Jesuit priest...

 "Why would they let me book a flight if there was no way for me to make the connection?" It wasn't a rhetorical question.  When I looked at the time my first flight landed, and when my next flight was boarding, it seemed like there would be very little hope of me making it.  Bob, who is a much more seasoned traveler than I am, looked at the airline site and told me that there was a "warning" to check the time of the connection. This is when the anxiety started ramping up. "I made these reservations six months ago! I don't know this stuff! Maybe something changed! Why would they let me book it!?"  Gettin' shrill.  I had been pretty proud of myself preparing for this work trip. I was headed to a four day conference in Baltimore, and for the most part I felt okay about it. I was pleased with my wardrobe choices, I had everything confirmed, I was checked in online with the airline and the hotel. I was all set.  I had also had a "practice trip...