My List of Shame – Face Palm!

My List of Shame – Face Palm!

My List of Shame – Face Palm!


If you’re reading this, I thank you! From the bottom of my heart, actually.

I’ve given blogging a go for 7 months now. My test period was 6 months but I somehow couldn’t bear to stop at that point. While I have a small, solid group of loyal readers, you included, the analytics of my blog and lack of reader interaction sadly don’t seem to support continuing on.

I’ll be posting a couple more articles that I’ve already completed, and then I’ll be done.

It’s been a fun ride! I’ve enjoyed having a chance to post my thoughts, share my recipes, reconnect with old friends, and get my creative juices flowing once more.

I hope some of my posts have made you smile, made you think, and made you create some delicious dishes from time to time!

Thank you!!!





My cousin, whom I hadn’t spoken to in years, called me a few weeks ago. For some reason, my family doesn’t regularly stay in touch with aunts and uncles and cousins, so the fact that she took the time to call was fantastic.

Until, that is, I was saying goodbye and called her by the WRONG DANG NAME!


And, you know what? That slip up will bother me for a month of Sundays.

Do you ever do things like that, or is it just me?

I have a running list of times where I’ve been a dweeb that surfaces in my mind occcasionally to haunt my very existence.

I call it my “List of Shame.” This cousin name shame doozy will certainly make it to the list.

Here are others items on the list that plague me regularly.


  1. Accidental Ass Flaunting

I had just been assigned to an important task force at work that was destined to save the world, or at the very least, slightly increase revenue.

Either, or.

The second day on the job, I threw out my back in such a severe way that it rendered me immobile for the next three days. Determined to rejoin my task force compadres, I inched out of bed the fourth day, dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for work, and headed on in for a day of back-to-back meetings.

Shuffling over to the washroom during a much-needed break, I used the facilities, and then downed 4 extra-strength Advil, sweat covering my brow from the pain and effort of it all.

I was halfway down the football field length hallway, hunched over like Quasimodo, when I heard my new manager persistently calling my name from behind. I slowly and painfully turned around only to see her frantically motioning to my bottom.

Yep, turns out I had tucked my flowing “Look at me, I’m such a professional” skirt way up high into the waistband of my control top panty hose, flaunting my rear end for all the world to see.

Despite my pain, I whipped around and frantically began tugging my voluminous skirt out of my hose with inventively nimble moves, further wrenching my beleaguered back.

Can you see me cringing at this even now?

Trust me. I am.


  1. Bowling Embarrassment to Spare

We had just joined a new local couples bowling group in order to mingle and get to know the neighbors in our new subdivision.

As luck would have it, someone had created a list of oh-so-fun “special” bowling techniques that each new bowler had to pick out of a hat and then demonstrate. Mine was the old “hop on one foot and then throw the ball” approach.

Here’s something to remember. When you read the little warning on the side of the lane about it being slippery beyond the line, heed it! It is not an idle threat. Past that innocent looking line, the lane is oiled within an inch of its life and is as slippery as the dickens, that is assuming that dickens are indeed incredibly slippery, whatever they may be.

Anyway, I hopped that 12-lb. ball up to and beyond the dreaded red line like an overachieving bowling bunny, only to slip and crash land onto the wooden floor with a monumental thud.

Adding insult to injury, my ball bounced out of my hand, loped down the lane with all of the snap and muscle of a wet paper towel, and resigned itself to the gutter a few inches from the pins.

You may think that bowling is so simple that it’s foolproof, but nothing is foolproof to a sufficiently talented fool.

Epic fail!

Epic fall!


  1. Deep Sea Cleavage Diving

Once, I was in a heated meeting at work with three male counterparts. As I shook my head emphatically to disagree with the course our planning session was taking, my earring flew off and dove into the depths of my cleavage where it remained, much to the dismay of my coworkers, I imagine, for the rest of the meeting since I wasn’t about to go fishing it out.

Three pairs of eyes had watched its wayward trajectory from my ear to the bottom of my bosom. Yet, not sure what to do, I sat staring straight ahead, cloaked in denial, wearing only one earring for the next 40 minutes like Michael Jackson during his ‘80s “Thriller” phase.

Face palm!

(That earring was a vindictive son of a gun, too, pricking and poking every time I moved an inch to show its dissatisfaction with having been buried in a giant boob cave. But still, I ask you, who told it to take the dive in the first place? Not I.)


  1. Bushwhacked Biking

When I was a college student, I rode my bike round trip to work 25 miles a day during the summer down Milwaukee Avenue, a busy 4-lane thoroughfare. I rode up giant hills and under overpasses where I once accidentally Ba-Bump, Ba-Bump, Ba-Bump, Ba-bumped my way over the legs of a dead deer on the side of the road without skidding even a little. Thank God! Suffice it to say, I was very comfortable with bikes. Bikes were my buddies.

Until, that is, they weren’t.

In my thirties, I was working about 60 hours a week, had a toddler to cuddle and feed when I got home, a house to care for, supper to make, and a husband to high five as we passed each other in the hall on occasion.

My bike was basically dead last on my list of things that received my attention. Therefore, it had been quite a few years since my seat had sat on its seat. No sweat though, right? Because the old adage says that you can’t unlearn to ride a bike. And I wholly believe in old adages. New ones, however, are somewhat suspect.

Having found a spare moment, I finally pulled my bike out of the garage feeling an odd sense of foreboding. This was my old friend, right? We’d spent countless hours together, and yet, it felt like a stranger in my hands.

Not one to be easily deterred, I brushed off the cobwebs, pumped the tires, and swung my leg over the saddle in one grandiose move that somehow sent me and the bike flying smack dab into the nearby boxwoods.

I was up in a flash, though skewered and scratched as I was, hoping upon hope no one had witnessed my bucking biking scene.


And that’s all you’re going to get. I could go on and on reciting bullet points from my list of shame, but I won’t. My psyche couldn’t take it.

Plus, I’m finding it rather difficult to type with my face resting on my palm.



Cover photo courtesy of: Silicon Angle


Written by Becky


  • Judith says:

    I will miss reading your blog. Good luck with your next adventure!

    • Becky says:

      Aw, thanks, Jidith! (Auto-correct did not like how I spell your name.) Be sure to read the post I put out today!

  • James says:

    I hope you reconsider your decision to end your blog. I found your blogs witty, well written, and interesting–even when it was a topic I didn’t think I was interested in. And not being a cook, let alone a chef, I never made anything you’ve posted but it always looked like something I would like to try. I understand, probably better than most, about feedback, or the lack of same, and the numbers game. How many readers would make it worthwhile to continue to write? Is that number two digits, six digits or somewhere in between. I read above a comment saying that they were a loyal reader. Isn’t a handful of loyal readers worth writing for?

    I know blogging takes money but sometimes the cost is worth having a platform to say what you want to whoever wishes to read the things you want to say. The lack of comments doesn’t mean that the people who visit your site daily aren’t enjoying every word that you post.

    It is a chore to write and how many blogs is necessary in one week? I guess I’m rationalizing why I write and what the rewards are. Still, I wish to thank you for your efforts in producing your blogs; I realize how much of you is in your writing.

    • Becky says:

      All good points, James. Thanks! You, better than anyone who has commented here, know how I feel as a blogger. Yes, it’s wonderful to have a platform to share my point-of-view as well as entertain my readers. I find it a real blessing to be able to make others smile, laugh or broaden their perspective. But my goal from the start was also a financial one to help with college costs, and a larger base is needed for that. We’ll see what comes to pass in the next few weeks!

  • Lisa says:

    Aww, this is not good news, Becky. You have a gift! You have entertained, enlightened, and fattened us up these past 7 months. Would you consider being a casual blogger?

    • Becky says:

      Hah! Lisa, I gave that a thought for about a nano-second, but then discarded the part-time idea because I usually have two modes: all in, or all out. I’ve been listening to comments on here and in person though, and I’m cooking something up right now that I hope to announce shortly. Stay tuned!

  • Cyndi Smith says:

    It seriously makes me so sad to think that you are hanging up your blogging hat… I find your posts engaging, inspiring, thought-provoking and entertaining…please don’t stop! I promise I’ll share every post!!

    • Becky says:

      Thank you, Cyndi! It makes me sad to think that I’m making you and others sad. I think I’ll take a few weeks to “ponder” the situation further.

  • Lucia says:

    Becky, I do hope you reconsider and continue your blog. I really enjoy it and it makes me smile and sometimes even laugh. I’m glad we were able to reconnect after what, 30 years? I especially enjoy catching up on what’s going on in your life. And you’ve given me some great recipes too! Even if you don’t change your mind, the past several months have been brighter because you’ve shared your life and observations in a candid, insightful and humorous way. Wishing you the best! Let’s stay in touch.

    • Becky says:

      Hi Lucia! I’m so glad we’ve reconnected too! Thank you for your kind words regarding my blog. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it, but the only way I would continue is if I would be able to substantially grow my base, and that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. Oh well. If other writing opportunities pan out, I’ll post them here. In the mean time – check your FB!

  • Arlene Krizka says:

    Becky, no, don’t stop. I, too, am not much of a commentator, but I thoroughly enjoy your blogs. You are so talented, imaginative, creative, funny–you have a definite knack for this type of writing. How about trying it for a year? Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be behind you and support you, but know that your blogs have been a highlight of my day. Will you still continue sending your articles and recipes to the Daily Herald? I’ve seen them there, too.

    Your loving godmother.

    • Becky says:

      Hi Arlene! No, I actually won’t be continuing to send recipe posts to the Herald either. I will, though, try guest posting at various other blogs. If I’m published there, I’ll try to remember to post the link here. First, however, I’m going to over-indulge in reading books – something I love, yet something I’ve put on hold the whole time I’ve been blogging with the exception of that singular Nancy Drew book, of all things! I’m also hoping to get up the nerve to begin submissions of my children’s books once more. We’ll see . . . Thanks so much for your support!

  • Laura says:

    Depressed and sad. It’s true I’m not big at commenting, I’m more of an observer. Perhaps it is because I’m the youngest and either my opinion never mattered to my siblings or because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Regardless, I have enjoyed reading your blog and will miss my weekly doses of humor. I have tried to do my share. I got my friends to follow your blog and suggested recipes to those in need of something new and tasty. I’ve even made many myself and no one complained about my cooking because they knew where the recipe came from! I finally finished reading Orphan Train and really enjoyed it. I secretly want to go to the children’s section at the library and reread all the Nancy Drew books (I’m not sure what happened to my shared collection of books with my sister). You’ve made me wish I had really learned how to sew when my mom tried to teach me and I have often considered buying an “Ove Glove.” I broke out in laughter when my blue wig wearing son popped up on my screen as the kids headed off to their last band camp and I’m glad I barely made any photos myself! Thanks for the ideas, recipes, laughs, memories and keep on writing!

    • Becky says:

      Aw, well, your opinion matters to me, my friend, and I’m tickled that you enjoyed my attempt at blogging! I have a Nancy Drew book with your name on it here for the low, low, triple discount price of . . . FREE!

  • Debbie says:

    I can’t tell you how much I have enjoyed your blog. You are an extraordinary writer and I will truly miss reading it. Thanks for all the time and effort you’ve put into it….I’m sorry to see it end! Best always, Deb

    • Becky says:

      Aw, that’s so nice to hear, Debbie! Thank you and you’re welcome! I’m sure my writing will pop up here and there either online, in a book, or I might even take to writing on public bathroom stalls. Who knows? Wherever I do continue blabbing on, I’ll make sure to share!

  • Patty from MMC says:

    I will really miss your blog. I am no cook (read the recipes but have yet to make one) – but I devoured every anecdote and loved each one. You have a talent for capturing moments of your life with wit and finesse. (Liked and laugh about each of these moments!). Thanks for sharing your life with you on-line friends and family. P.S. Cinderella was my favorite!

    • Becky says:

      Patty! Thanks for being my official top responder! Thanks also for your kind words. I sorta had a soft spot for the goofy Cinderella post, too! Life’s too short to take it too seriously! Hope to see you around some time when you come in for a visit!

  • Jamin says:

    I’m saddened that I wont be reading your posts anymore. While the readership hasn’t grown as you would have liked, the people that have been loyal to your blog, like myself, truly got a lot of enjoyment from your witty and entertaining posts.

    You’re wonderful babe and no amount of clicks will ever change that. I feel bad for the people that do read your blog and will no longer be able to access it but I feel very fortunate that I’ll get to enjoy our time together for many, many years to come.

    • Becky says:

      Thanks so much, J! Thanks for being my A-number-one-supporter, daily idea-bouncer, and part-time pimp/talent agent. I know it’s not easy for you to write a comment like this one, which makes it all the sweeter to read. Love you to the moon and back!

  • Kim Roach says:

    I say replace your face on palm with laughter. Time allows us to do that and thank goodness it does! You survived all of these things! This is coming from someone who can’t call their hairdresser or dentist when embarrassed but can offer you the advice to laugh these things off! Anyway I will really, really, really miss your blog ;(

    • Becky says:

      You made me laugh, Kim, on a day I wasn’t sure I’d find much to laugh about. Thanks for that, and thanks for your much-appreciated support! I think I’m going to really, really, really miss my blog, too. 🙁

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About Me:

Hi! My name is Becky. I’m a mom, a wife, a friend, a writer, and a compulsive thinker. Don't invite me to a spa or to shop the day away, but rather, make me laugh, engage me in interesting conversation, play a game with me, or give me a cappuccino and homemade vanilla bean flan and I’m yours ‘til the cows come home.

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