I'm taking a training class this week in Clayton. Usually I really enjoy these classes because they're 1) a break from the normal routine and 2) I get an hour for lunch without having to work an extra hour at the end of the day. I do, occaisionally, learn something as well.
At lunch today, I actually had a little over an hour, as I was done with the assigned "exercises" a bit before noon. Any extra time I had there was eaten up by having to arrange my pump, however. I have a rather nifty (in theory) breastpump that I can wear around under my clothes, running on batteries. (It's called a Whisper Wear if you're interested but if you look it up online, the thing is no longer made, and the website is long gone). Once on, I look like I'm either stacked, or deformed, depending on how well the two pumps are staying in place. And far from "whispering", the things sound like a pair of asynchronous ducks following me around. In any case, I keep my coat on, and hope no one suspects me of being a suicide bomber.
Today at lunch I made a very poor decision--to drive to the Galleria for lunch and attempt to do some Christmas shopping. Apparently, half of St. Louis had the same idea. And none of them know that there are more than two levels to the parking garage. I think it took me 10 minutes from entering the garage until I found a spot..with about 50 other open spots nearby, all very very close to the Macy's entrance. The first 9.5 of those minutes were spent stuck behind other cars who were waiting for little old ladies to stow their packages and slowly back out of their parking spaces. Seriously, folks, keep driving up to level 3...you will walk the same number of stairs (down!) to the entrance and there is more parking.
Of the million people at the Galleria at noon, at least fifty thousand were eating at the Bread Company. Finding a table was much like finding a parking space, except that Bread Co has no level 3.
Lunch itself was good, but by the time I'd parked and ordered and eaten food, I was tired of the ducks and had to find a restroom to remove them. Either the other ladies in the Famous (sorry, Macy's) restroom didn't see me pulling things out of my bra, or chose to ignore it. I wonder what someone would have thought if they noticed me pouring baggies of white liquid into small bottles and disassembling objects that I pulled out from under my clothes. Maybe I should be composing my defense for drug charges, not bomb threats.
I did manage to buy a Christmas gift for my baby sister, the last person on my list that I hadn't shopped for yet. I got back to class a little late, having forgotten to account for shoppers-that-question-every-price-at-the-register. Given how much time I'm finding to post, I guess I'm not that far behind.