Desperate times call for desperate measures

Recently, one of Keith's surgeons invited us to be his guest at a black-tie fundraiser, which means I need to find a formal gown in the next two weeks. You might think this is a drag, but I'm pretty excited about a reason to play dress-up again! I mean, after a girl gets married, when does she really have the opportunity?

So, Henry and I set off for the mall this morning. The spring formals aren't out yet, and the winter dresses are extremely picked over, so we weren't having much luck. Finally, I decided to see if Nordstrom had anything on sale. (Yes, of course, they did... the dresses made for grandmothers.) I picked up a few things and headed to the dressing room. One dress was worthy of a look in the larger mirror, so I stepped outside my room, and "click" went the door. Oops. I forgot it would lock behind me. I found the saleslady and told her I locked myself out, and she promised to be with me in a moment (she was ringing up someone's purchase). I twirled in front of the mirror 2 or 10 times, sat on a chair, twiddled my thumbs, and then peeped through the door slats to see if Henry was still eating his goldfish crackers.

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Poor baby had fallen asleep. I peeped outside the dressing area again to see what the saleslady was doing - still talking to the customer. I decided my baby needed to get home and I wasn't waiting any longer. I gathered my gown around my waist and shimmied right under that door! It wasn't pretty, and I hope no one saw me on a camera, but it got the job done!