Tower of Lebanon

I have a big nose.

We all know this.

If you have been silently gawking over the size of my sniffer, let me just make you a little more comfortable by assuring you that, yes, I am aware of the larger protrusion smack dab in the middle of my face.

Andy calls it the Tower of Lebanon. It is a reference from Song of Solomon (do you call it Song of Solomon or Song of Songs? Just wondering) where the Lover is waxing poetic about his Beloved's physical beauty. Andy does it to tease me, but I figure if the wisest king in all of history had a thing for large noses, then I can be at peace with mine.

And I was.

Until today.

Until it betrayed me.

In Target of all places!

My safe and happy place.

The sanctuary of new moms.

It is, truly, a destination for the parents-of-two-and-under crowd. I must have seen a dozen women with infant carriers in their carts today.

I told my mother-in-law

that meaningless trips to the store,

to spend just $3,

are a life saver.

Because it only costs me three dollars,

but it can take up to an hour,

if I really draw it out.

That is an hour that

Jack is contained and entertained

and usually Joey is asleep

(the magic of motion people!).

Heaven.

But I digress.

Back to my nose.

Do you ever have days where you just feel in a dither? You are clumsy and stutter and always feel like your hair is in your face and you keep twitching to try and get it out of your eyes? It was that kind of afternoon for me.

I had taken Jack to Target to pass the time and were checking out. I couldn't find my card at first, and was fumbling through my wallet. Receipts were falling out, my hair was in my face, I was spastically flinging my head to try and make my bangs get out of the way, and I kept forgetting that I was around adults and was using my "mommy" voice to talk to the checker and was nervous laughing and getting almost hysterical when the betrayal happened.

My nose...

dripped.

Not like it started to run and I had to sniff.

It out of the blue, just dripped.

One giant droplet from my oversized nostril, onto the floor.

The woman in line behind me actually gasped.

Well, the woman was actually my sister. And what she really said was, "OH!"

But still, a drop big enough to be perceived a full cart length away? Imagine the view the checker got?!

After more fumbling (what do you even say at that point?) I gratefully left the store. Lizzie and I didn't discuss it then, but later, when I texted her she said, "That was amazing! I don't think I have seen that happen to any one except grandma before!"

Great. I used to have my nose associated with a biblical beauty. Now it is just a drippy-old-lady feature.

Not exactly what I was going for.

I hope it was a one-time offense because I'm pretty sure I can't handle it if this becomes a regular occurrence.