I’m still not sure

I was a little worried about my father’s speech on Thursday, at noon, at his award thing [the real purpose for my trip]. He had gone over the speech the night before, rehearsing certain points, and finding out what needed to be trimmed. He originally mentioned me as his son, and a writer and astrologer. Given the ceremony and all, I suggested that “astrologer” was a little too fringe oriented, and Pa Wetzel looked at me with that merry twinkle in his eye, “You’re not a little on the edge?” So at the luncheon, the biggest question was whether or not it was pork or chicken (or turkey, for that matter) as the main course. I’m still not sure. Then the award, the little speech, and so on. Then, after the speeches and the plaques and the big silver chalices had all been handed out, I was wound up being delegated to carry the ceremonial gift — the award itself — for my parents. I walked out of the banquet hall with the big silver chalice (cup, vase, memorial thing) tucked under one arm, and I caught a ride with the Virgo back to the office to fetch up Pa Wetzel’s truck as he was still basking in the [much deserved] limelight. Now, on the way out the door of the hotel, I paused, set the big award cup down, reached into my pocket and thumbed on my Visor Phone, slipped it back into my pocket, and hopped in the Virgo’s truck. Notice something missing? I didn’t, not until we got to the office, and I opened up the back of the truck to get the chalice and carry it in. In a situations like this, the rule of thumb is not to panic. I didn’t. I just got back in the truck and didn’t worry. Okay, so I worried a lot, but I didn’t let it show too much. I was was told my eyes got real big when I realized the error of my ways. Swept up in the moment. But back at the banquet hall, sitting right where I’d set it down, there was the award. I grabbed it, walked nonchalant like out the door, and got on with the rest of the day, you know, parties, airports, planes and taxis — and so forth.