Predicaments.  Some lives are full of them.  Mine is.  Some predicaments are more interesting than others.  Some are entertaining.  Some serious.  Some tutorial.  Some maddening.  This past month was full of predicaments for me.
One.
I found an old iron key in the front drawer of our old rolltop desk that  belonged to Allan's mother.  It resembled the key to my china closet.  I've always wished I had two keys to that china closet because what if I lost the singleton?  I would never consider breaking the curved glass doors to gain entry; so I'd simply be forced to only look and never again touch my crystal serving dishes inside.  But I love to use my serving dishes.
Anyhow, I tried the newfound key in the lock of my china closet and, click, it moved the intricate workings of the antique piece and locked it securely.  Gosh, what a find!  'Twas my lucky day ... for a only a few moments, however.  When I turned the key to unlock my china closet, it simply refused to work in the reverse direction.  My heart sank to my stomach.
And where was the original, working, singleton key?  Locked inside.  Ridiculous.  What a predicament.
Two.
I was patiently getting my groceries checked out at the checkout counter, a rather small cart full, one item at a time, and the kind man asked if I'd like to pick up my groceries at the drive-by or did I want to carry them to my car.
I looked at those large heavy cans of pineapple juice, the large heavy cans of tomato juice, the large heavy frozen pizzas, and the items that filled the hollow spaces in the bags.  Of course I would drive by to pick them up.
But in a moment of poor mind and conversation, I said to the nice man, "My tennis elbow is acting up.  I can't possibly carry those bags to my car."
Well, youda thought he hit the jackpot of conversation for the day.  The man's eyes brightened as he moved closer to me, and it seemed to be white foam appearing in the corners of his mouth as he began a midday organ recital.  His neuropathy was in the first measure and it spread to esophageal reflux and then into fibermyalgia.  After that the concert led to his pacemaker and up into his sinuses.  His recital continued as I backed out the door, carrying all of my groceries, trying to be polite and still getting on with the day's work.  Holy macaroni, and I've never even played tennis.  Scary.  What a predicament.
Three.
On my way to visit Father Elstan last week in Springfield, Illinois, I only took one wrong turn, but that single error meant at least an extra half hour of driving because there are simply no exits off some of those freeways.  I tried to convince my girlfriends that it was not a big deal over the long haul.
Then we came to a toll booth on the wrong road and I had to flip in 40 cents even though it wasn't taking me in the right direction.  When I finally got turned around, I had to pass through another toll booth and deposit 25 cents extra.  Talk about adding insult to injury.  I had to pay tolls on roads that got me nowhere except turned around.  Maddening.  What a predicament.
Four.
At a family gathering at my sister's house last weekend, I was helping little Miss Adeline eat a heavily frosted cupcake.  She was sitting on my lap at the table and conversation was in every corner.  Before I knew it, Addie had picked up a glob of frosting and then rubbed her very tired eyes before finding her mouth.
The red and blue and yellow frosting was thick and gooey all over the little darling's right eye and
eyelid and eyebrow.  Everybody thought it was funny except me and Addie.  Little honey bunny who never cried, Grandma is sorry for not keeping a better eye on you and that frosting!  What a messy predicament.
Five.
Allan and I were enjoying our recent wedding anniversary at a new restaurant in Eden Prairie called Balimbi Bay.  It's got a tropical theme and fun menu, and we wanted to order the pupu platter but it only came as a "Pupu Platter for Three."  The assort-ment of food for this menu item was intriguing and sounded delicious, but we couldn't understand the strange numbering. 
We always thought that two was company and three was a crowd, but we ordered the platter as stated.  Sure enough, just as we thought, it was fun and delicious ... but we couldn't eat it all.  There was enough left over for a third person.  We want to patronize Balimbi Bay again and order a Pupu Platter for Two, but it's not on the menu.  Unbelievable.  What a predicament.
It is a beautiful thing to find one's self in predicaments that are not a matter of life and death, not a matter of right and wrong, not a matter of liberal or conservative, and not a matter of sex, lies, and videotape.  Happy spring, happy fling, and happy everything.
                                                                                     ~Sue