"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves 'who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?'

Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. It's not just in some of us; its in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

~ Nelson Mandela
(Found through S. L. Viehl's weblog)

I brought my lunch today--after I fixed it (pimento cheese sandwich on Italian bread, Lays "California Dill" potato chips, and a little cup of watermelon Jello), I sat it by the back door so I would either a) remember it or b) fall over it on the way out.

J.B. came by and asked if I'd brought my lunch, and I said I had, but that I would walk with her somewhere if she was going out, so we went across the street to The Cup and Saucer, where she ordered a piece of veggie quiche to go. We sat at the bar and waited for her food, and talked for a few minutes, then they brought it, and we walked back across the street to the office, and the elevator was turned off.

The elevator opens right into our offices, i.e., there is no hallway--once you get off the elevator on the second floor, you're in our space. So if everyone is gone, or when the last person leaves for the day, we turn the elevator off. Except that everyone doesn't have an elevator key, just four people. I'm not one of them. Not that it would have mattered, though, because I didn't have my keys with me anyway.

If I had, we could have climbed the stairs and gotten in by the side door, which was my first thought, but of course, I didn't have my keys.

So we climbed the back stairs to the deck, hoping that maybe the back door was unlocked, but it wasn't. Of course. I tried to get Simon to come let us in; I was thinking of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney World where the prisoners are trying to coax the dog with the key in his mouth over to them . . . it's a hard door to open, though, as Eugene pointed out, hard even for us to open, so probably impossible for a dog. Good try, though.

Yes, Eugene was there, too. I knew he was out to lunch, but his car was still in the parking lot, so we watched for him, and when I saw him walking back down the sidewalk, I called to him and asked if he had his keys. Yes, he said. However, while he had his keys with him, he hadn't yet been given keys to the office. So he sat out on the balcony with us. Now that he had come back, and we'd blown that chance to get in, I called Gard on his cell phone (having remembered to take my phone, just not my keys), but I got his voice mail. I assumed he'd left his phone at the office, but as it turned out, it just didn't ring for some reason.

Then I tried Dave's cell phone number, but it just rang and rang . . .

So we sat. Pretty soon we saw Cello and Jenny and Dominic coming up the street. (Cello and Jenny walking, Dominic being carried in the baby carrier, being just over a month old). We stood on the deck and waved our arms, and motioned for them to come talk to us (I didn't know if Cello had his keys, and wanted to save them walking around the front of the building if he didn't), but they just waved back and walked on.

Well, fine.

J.B. watched through the back door, and she saw Simon get up from his post in the hall outside Dave's office, and she said, "Something's happening!" I cupped my hands around my face and pressed my nose against the door and looked pitiful, and pointed at the door knob, and Cello came and let us in. Okay, he let us in after standing there for a couple of minutes saying, "Oh, you're locked out?? Oh, too bad," and looking sad.

At least it wasn't raining.

Obviously, it taught me a lesson, and I'll take my keys next time, but darn it, I had just weaned myself off of carrying them all the time because it felt obsessive. I'd always pick them up and stick them in my pocket even if I was just walking across the street for a Coke, or to the mailbox to mail a letter, and I had to do that in the old building because the outer door was locked, but it isn't here.

And there was always someone here before, so the elevator was always on, so after a month of carrying my keys everywhere, I began to feel silly, and made myself leave them here a few times, and nothing bad happened, so . . .

My Amazon "Gold Box" offerings today were a pedometer with FM radio, another rotisserie, a stainless steel knife set with block, a six cup espresso maker, and a men's web/dry rechargeable shaver.