It's nice to be alive

I did it! I'm alive and in one piece!  My car wasn't towed, I didn't forget anything vital and there was plenty of room in my suitcase!  However...yes I did break out - all over my face - when we were at the Dead Sea. Those minerals are no joke.  And the worst thing of all, my precious straightener blew out instantly.  I will mourn him for the rest of my days. 

The last 11 or so days in Israel were wondrous, and taking a short hiatus from my everyday surroundings was positively therapeutic.  In the briefest of brief summaries, a bus load of 20-somethings from across the U.S. came together to tour the State of Israel from north to south, east to west.  From the Golan Heights to Mitspe Ramon, Masada to Tel Aviv.  I'd love to recount a play-by-play, but this isn't a travelogue.  Perhaps throughout the next couple of posts I'll share with my avid two followers a few little ditties.  We'll see how behaved you are in the office. For now, though, who would I be if I didn't share the most beloved of experiences that makes Lauren Lauren.  Yes it wouldn't be a travel abroad Madere-style without a little humility sprinkled in.  Is it as good and "that one time I fell on the dance floor in Florence," or my "seven year itch moment"on Michigan Avenue?  No, probably not, but it still ranks. 

I would like to pose a philosophical query: If you commit an embarrassing act, but you are alone, is it still embarrassing? I believe that answer is for sure a very solid Yes.  Particularly in my case if you proceed to tell everyone directly following said incident.  Here are the deets: Halfway through the trip we stayed at a great kibbutz in the middle of the country.  We were pretty lucky since this kibbutz happened to have a bar on campus.  Since drinking was 'verboten' on the trip, we naturally all decided to go check it out. I decided to wear my very best: no makeup, a too-small yellow hoodie, cropped pool pants, red knee-high pajama socks, topped off with flip-flops. A true vision.  (I know what you're thinking, but this is not yet the embarrassing part.) I changed my mind about my outfit suddenly because I didn't want people to think I was a total schlep.  I ducked back into my room to check my outfit.  There was no floor-length mirror, so, with a hot cup of tea in one hand, I pulled out a small stool underneath the vanity and stood on it.  After a quick glance and shoulder shrug, I went to step off the stool.  I was still looking in the mirror when I noticed my whole body was leaning to the right.  Too late did I realize the stool couldn't support me and it fell out from under me.  I stared into my fearful, wide eyes as I slammed onto the floor.  Hot tea ejected gracefully from its cup in slow motion, and then I felt it crash down upon me.  Not a soul was there to witness this.  I could have gotten away with it. So WHY did I tell the people waiting for me outside?! The world will never know.  End note: after recounting my tale of woe to my roommates, they informed me that were was indeed a floor-length mirror; it was in the wardrobe by the door. Sigh.