A special treat for you today. . .

. . .at the expense of the last little bit of my dignity.

I knew my mind was in a fragile state.

After a whirlwind weekend of residency matching, then listing and selling our house (glory be!),
I found myself at the market yesterday buying supplies for the last major event of my current relief society
career (glooooory be! I will be replaced on Sunday.)

I filled my cart, removed bouncy balls and cartoon dvd's from my children's lustful fists, made my purchases, then exited to the parking lot where I rested my cart against the front bumper of my vehicle in order to wrestle jaded toddlers into their car seats.

Out of breath and a little peeved, I then buckled my own seat belt, dropped my tranny into reverse, and began to pull away.

Looking over my left shoulder as I backed out, a strange sight sped into view: a shopping cart, loaded with groceries, heading of its own volition down the sloped parking lot and toward the busy street. I heard my own bewildered "what the?" escape my lips at about the same moment a sinister realization settled upon me: Mine!

I jerked out of my seat belt and threw open the door in pursuit, realizing too late I'd failed to put my van in park. Hopping backward on one leg, I clung to the door of my rolling vehicle and managed to pull myself back in and stomp the brake. With the cart now far beyond reach, further action was futile. I'd have to watch helplessly as it rolled its ill-fated course.

Time slowed. Two leather-clad moto men idled across the street, eyes wide, as the rogue groceries raced across traffic, narrowly missing cars, and careened into an adjoining lot brimming with unsuspecting parked vehicles. The men looked searchingly in my direction. They caught my eye before I could duck out, so i shrugged my shoulders and shook my head as if to ask, "Where in the world did that come from?"

They shrugged back, and we three watched as the cart settled its sights on a shiny gold Buick. I groaned as it plowed with all its might into the Buick's rear bumper and ricocheted off toward a black SUV. Praise the Good Samaritan who threw himself between the cart and its next victim, grabbed it, and guided it to rest at the foot of a light pole. 10 points of good karma to you, sir.

I sat a while in disbelief at all that had transpired. My pulse was audible, but not as loud as my one thought: "Kate, you are an IDIOT."

Olivia brought me back to the moment with her query, "Where we going?"
"To assess the damage," I replied.

I waited a good five minutes, giving any witnesses a chance to move along, before I could muster the courage to drive over to my cart. Sheepishly, I transferred bags from cart to trunk and noticed that, for all the ruckus, not even an egg was cracked and only the ginger ale seemed a little shaken.

Next, I walked over to the Buick, my Geico card and cell phone in hand. (And would car insurance cover such an event?) To my shock and immense relief, there was not a scratch. Nary a skid mark. Nothing to show for the trauma that bumper had endured minutes before. Buick, I think I love you.

Unable to leave my children alone in my van in order to walk the cart back, I held it at arm's length out my window and drove it slowly to its home.

Perhaps some bystander watched this whole event transpire and later had a good laugh over dinner with friends. Someday soon perhaps I, too, will have a good laugh about this over dinner with friends. Today, I'm just deeply grateful nothing more serious came of my brainless blunder than a super-sized dose of embarrassment. It could have been so much worse.

Dear mind: So sorry I've been neglecting you. Tomorrow I will take you to the spa.