Here I am days following my return from Oklahoma, and I'm still picking gravel out of my buns from my rough landing back into real life. I'm not the suavest traveler anyway, but this time, I had to farm out the dog and cat to the vet for boarding, because my husband was in NYC for a trade show and my kids were farmed out to my parents (who had just returned from a trip to see my new nephew and brother and sister-in-law) which meant that I had to get five people and two pets ready for four different destinations.

My husband's birthday is the same month as Father's Day, and every year, I'm like - WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?

Last year I made him buy his new car. This year, we got an iPad. I talked him out of taking the iPad on his trip to NYC, so that the following morning I could stick it in my own carry on luggage, cackling like a fiend.

One thing I have never mastered is dressing appropriately - and I do mean that sincerely. Most of the time I'm either overdressed or underdressed or dressed like a slob or something. Holly Burns, please write a How To Dress Yourself For Travel article, please?

My challenge this time was leaving my house at 3:30 am in 50 degree weather, and arriving at 3:00 pm in 95 degree weather. I went with a capri-length pair of jeans, and a floaty sleeveless blouse. The only bra that worked with the blouse was an ancient front-closing, racerback-style bra. I tossed a pashmina scarf in my bag and headed out.

At the airport, I amused myself by casually rearraging my carry on to reveal slight peeps of the iPad. This, as you might imagine, drove the men at the same waiting area crazy. They all wanted to see it, and poke at it. The women were not as eager to ogle my technology, but I saw a few of them perk up when I slid it out of the bag for a quick email check.

I decided to get some coffee, and put the iPad away. As I stood up, the clasp on my bra decided to release the hounds. With my breasts suddenly unhinged and ready to go their own way given the slightest encouragement, I shuffled my way to the restroom and put things to rights. And then I gave the clasp a stern talking-to before heading back to get some coffee.

All was well until we boarded the plane. Lifting my bag into the overhead bins, the clasp gave a mighty "sproing!" and my boobs were all WOOOO! I quickly plopped down in my seat and began to excavate my scarf so that I could maybe hide under that while I reclasped my dingdang brassiere. Of course, in order to get the scarf out, I had to first pull out the iPad, meaning that every man within four rows was craning his head towards my seat.

"Is that an iPad?" said one.
"Do you love it?" asked another.
"Can I see it?" asked a third.

Meanwhile, Lucy and Ethel were having a party under my flimsy blouse, and I tossed the iPad into the seat pocket and prayed that all the fellas would just simmer down for a few so I could dig around in my shirt and resynch my melons.

Thank God for the safety presentation. I managed to get everything put back to rights without offending anyone (I hope) or putting on a show (I sincerely hope.) It was all well and good until it was time to retrieve my suitcase. I am ashamed to say that I stalled enough that the guy sitting behind me lifted it down for me. I made it off the plane and on and off my next flight just fine. I rented my car, and made it to Walmart before things cut loose again. And that time, I didn't have the iPad to wave around and go "Hey! Look Over Here!"

I hope the security personnel enjoyed watching me fumble that clasp. All was well until I arrived at the Lodge. I walked through the door and SPROOOOOIIIIING!

Thank goodness I was alone! I put the iPad on the counter, and the bra in the trash. I figure a little exposed bra strap isn't the worst thing in the world.