My daughter’s Girl Scout troop had been talking about ways to handle stress. The girls were asked what their moms do when they are experiencing stress. I wasn’t there, at the time, so I imagined the answers:

Girl #1: My mom drinks a fifth of Jack Daniels.
Girl #2: My mom screams at everyone then locks herself in the bathroom and cries.
Girl #3: My mom chain smokes.
Girl #4: My mom will bake a pan of brownies and eat all but the two she saves for me. (Optional bullimic add on: Sometimes she throws up, afterwards.)
Girl #5: My mom drives really fast and uses all of the naughty words.
Girl #6: My mom drinks pot after pot of coffee and her skin breaks out.
The Girl Scout Leader told me that my daughter shared with the troop that I take a nap when I’m stressed. Usually, I only take naps when I get a migraine, so that’s probably somewhat accurate. Other troop moms, allegedly, according to the Leader, do things like run, exercise, meditate and do yoga when they’re stressed.

Yeah, right.

So, I joined a book club. My neighbor invited me and I read a ridiculous amount so I thought it might be a good way to meet some like-minded people. You know, friends.

I finished the first book the night before the meeting, and then the meeting was cancelled because no one else finished the book; not even, I learned, the person who suggested it.

The second book was better, but not by much. I went with my neighbor and enjoyed meeting some of the other women (it’s an all female group, so far). We sat eating and drinking for close to two hours before anyone mentioned the book.

The third book I really enjoyed. Because it had a bit to do with poverty and secondhand stuff, we decided at the previous meeting that we would each bring five things for a “swap.” We met last night at Three Notch’d Grill. Among the swappin’ stuff there was a framed print, jewelry, dresses (one vintage), a candle, a food chopper and some flavored dust somebody got at one of those tacky sex toy parties.

Keep in mind, I’d only met four of these women before and last night, only two of the women I’d previously met were in attendance. I showed up at the restaurant asking for a table full of strangers. Fortunately, the owner knew someone from the book club and knew what the heck I was talking about.

So I’m the stranger, really.

I brought, in my swap bag, a pair of red boot cuffs that I have never worn. As I was showing them around the table, trying for a taker, I mentioned that I thought they might be real fur, possibly rabbit.

Have you ever seen a tableful of well dressed, smooth, educated women simultaneously recoil? It’s pretty amusing.

Then I squinted in the dim light until I could read the tiny “100 percent polyester” label and the horror at the table subsided. A bit of a book club faux pas, I gathered.

We talked about the book for about 15 minutes, an improvement over the last meeting.

I guess I won’t wear my mink to the next meeting, after all.

One of my goals, I realized, standing, juggling a wine glass and a camera at a client event, is to master introductions flawlessly. My client can do it — I’ve watched her and been introduced and introduced to a number of times. She’s so great at it, I want to have her along any time I enter an unfamiliar venue.

I need to practice the art of introductions. I will use fellow blogger Dwight the Troubled Teen and his Future Beautiful Wife Lindsay Lohan to illustrate my point. Were I to have the honor of introducing these two, it would go something like this:

“Dwight, I’d like you to meet Lindsay Lohan. Lindsay is a talented actress who you may remember from the recent Robert Altman film, A Prairie Home Companion. She was never more adorable than when she played the role of twins in Disney’s remake of The Parent Trap.”

I would then turn to the lovely Ms. Lohan, and extend my hand to Mr. Troubled Teen, “Lindsay, meet Dwight. Dwight is a talented writer living in the Midwest. It is the highlight of his evening to have met you.” Then, I would lean in, conspiratorily, doing the Meg Ryan head tilt and say softly, “Dwight was a troubled teen,” thus establishing a common topic.

Then I’d leave them to discuss all they have in common, fall in love, run away, etc.

My kids gave me the opportunity to practice my formal introductions on Sunday when the Girl had a friend over. The Boy entered the room and I said, “Brad,” (not her real name, but she has a name I think of as a “boy” name, so Brad it is) “this is The Boy. He’s a high school student who plays trombone.” I gestured to Brad and turned to The Boy. “Boy,” I said, “this is Brad. She is a Girl Scout and a friend of your sister’s.” They stared at one another. I smoothed my hands on my chiffon apron, patted my chignon and turned on my heel for the kitchen where I prepared fresh lemonade and cookies for the kiddies.

Introductions. One of many resolutions for 2007.

We had extra guests for Thanksgiving, namely, my MIL’s cousin, his wife, their daughter and his wife’s mother, Daisy, from El Salvador. Daisy was simply delightful — an 85-year-old spry woman who doesn’t look a day over 60. When Daisy spied my fancy schmancy napkin folding (I went with The Rose) she insisted I teach her how. She folded alongside me until she got the hang of it, then practiced a few times on her own. She wanted to be sure to get it right, she said, so she could “show up” her 90-year-old sister.

Baked:

• Banana bread
• Cranberry bread
• Pumpkin bread
• Grandma’s famous orange rolls
• Pumpkin pie
• Pecan pie

Assembled/cooked:

• Smashed sweet potatoes
• Mashed potatoes
• Cheesy potatoes
• Green bean casserole
• Spiced apple rings
• Cranberry sauce (from scratch) and
• Cranberry sauce (from a can ’cause the heathen children like it that way)
• Corn
• Carrots
• Rolls

Essentially, more food than 12 people could reasonable consume. My husband got up at the unholy hour of 5am to smoke the turkey for 12 hours. It was worth it as it was fabulous, juicy and delicious. We’ll be having it again tonight!

Right now, at this very moment, the boy is enduring his first job interview . . . at my very favorite store.

Let’s hope they’re smart enough to see how great he is and buck up for $7-8 an hour (riiight).

My first awful job was at McDonald’s for $3.35 an hour. How about you?

*Update: the boy made it through round two and, pending a drug test, will be a $7.50/hour cart jockey at Target starting Tuesday.

 I’ve left that no good lousy Blogger and headed over to WordPress. Hopefully, it won’t take all y’all too long to figure out where I’ve gone.

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• I have the best husband in the world.
• I have two fantastic kids who make me proud and who also make me laugh.
• I have parents who love me, and who are great parents.
• I have in-laws that I love and who tolerate me, even when I make a mess at their house.
• I have two amazing, beautiful, talented sisters.
• I have a great job that I adore.

And there’s much, much more, but I need to go peel some potatoes now.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

This is our first and probably last, dining room table. It’s tough to buy something that you expect to last so long.

When I have a lot on my mind, I have a very active dreamlife. In one night I dreamed that:

• I attended the funeral of a client’s mother
• I championed a battalion of nursing mothers who wanted to breastfeed in church
• Paris Hilton was trying to blackmail me
• Brad Pitt came to my rescue

I don’t even like Brad. I may have to reconsider that position, however.