How low can you go?

Last week, I attended an end-of-the-school-year party with a group of likeminded moms who were celebrating our summer reprieve from the daily grind of packing lunches and rushing our grumpy trolls through breakfast, into clothes, and out the door for school.


Never mind that one of my children goes to year round school and I still have a month of drudgery ahead of me, I say yes to parties.

We gathered on the rooftop deck of a bar at the beach. It was a beautiful evening with a big bright moon. Everyone was smiling and talking and laughing, lots of great women were there. I left my purse in the car, but wore my jean jacket with the big pockets so that I could bring my camera.

I took only one photo that night.



Was it the sunset over the ocean? The smiling faces of my friends?



Oh, no.



It was taken after the best laugh I had all night



I was sitting alone at the time



In a toilet stall

See that writing at the bottom of the stall door? Someone was very committed to making that magic happen. If I had followed the rules that govern safe bar-toilet contact and hovered rather than sat, I might never have seen this:

This give me hope for humankind.

I am not obsessed with public toilets, contrary to what you might think after you realize that of the 17 posts I’ve written so far for this blog, today's is my 2nd one on the subject.

Ellie recently gave me props for the fact that I penned her “go-to post about toilets”. Lord knows we all need one of those in our arsenal. So I offer this little vignette to you, my darlings, and invite you to make it your go-to post about toilets.