The women I know are superb at crisis management. Like most of the women I know, I feel like I do aerobics all day long because I hit the floor running the moment the alarm goes off in the morning.

One of my girlfriends sent me an early-morning e-mail with the subject line "This has to be fiction!" The link was to a blog by a woman describing the start of her day with phrases like: "contemplated the stillness," "loved these moments of peace and quiet as I gazed at my daily list," and "felt the serenity of the morning dew."

Now, there's a bunch of doo if I ever heard it.

I saw my friend an hour later in the same place where we catch up for thirty seconds every weekday, the drop-off lane in front of the grade school. She was trying to apply some mascara in the rearview mirror as her kids unloaded their backpacks and sports equipment from the car.

"Hey!" I called out to her as I wrestled the knot out of the back of Abby's hair, using my finger nails as a comb. "Thanks for the laugh! I have to run this morning and 'contemplate the stillness' of taking my teenager for his driving permit, and then pick up three prescriptions and hurry into the studio to set the sound levels on the song I recorded at midnight last night."

"Oh. A slow morning, then?" she said. "If you have time to chat, I'll be 'gazing' at six loads of laundry, and enjoying having to pry the 'piece' of gum my four-year-old stuck in the DVD player!"
"Have fun!" I waved, folding a last-minute permission slip into a paper airplane and sailing it serenely out the passenger door to my eight-year-old.

As I drove away, I called out to her: "By the way, you have the hose to a gas pump hanging from the side of your car. Love ya!" 


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