Some people call me Dusty.

A few of you that know me VERY well have heard this one, but I find comfort in documenting it anyway – after all, it is funny.

I was away on business with a group of people I often traveled with. We were a fairly close group, having traveled together a bit, meaning not very much embarrassed any of us.

I left my lotion at home, as I tend to do on practically every trip I have ever taken. That along with sweatshirts seem to be a complete mental block when packing. So, I found a bath and body works, bought some lotion, and headed back to the hotel.

I slathered on the lotion, not paying much attention to it, and headed out to meet my colleagues so that we could begin work on a cut-over that evening. About two minutes into our walk over to the office, one of them noticed that I was sparkling. A lot. A bit like, say...oh, A STRIPPER! I had apparently purchased glittery lotion and was COVERED IN IT FROM HEAD TO TOE. I didn’t really understand the whole “stripper dust” thing at this point, but was told in detail exactly what I looked like. This was right before I ended up spending the evening with executives that I am sure wondered what my moonlighting job was.

Because I didn't have time to go shower, change and come back, I had to spend the rest of the night looking like a girl “trying to work her way through law school”

To this day one of the guys still calls me dusty. It suppose is endearing in its own way…