You know what happens when I don't eat. And if you don't know, then, well, keep making sure that I eat at regular intervals and you'll be fine. (see: California drama, all caused when Nora had to wait til 3 p.m. for lunch.)
So Mondays are rough this summer. Class runs from 6 p.m. to 9, in Washington, D.C. Which takes 90 minutes to get to, and an hour to get home from. And all lasts right in the middle of dinner.
This Monday, Torie Clark spoke to our class about how to handle and craft communications responses to crises. She had a lot to say, having served as Assistant Secretary of Defense for Public Affairs and run the Pentagon's pr when the Iraq war started.
And all that made me hungry. As soon as she left, I pulled out a salad, brought from home, squeezed a lemon over the lettuce, tomatoes, and cukes, and ate salad while my classmates and I discussed the perils of working for Ted Stevens and whether our teaher planned to fail us all.
I felt creepy eating dinner at a table meant for discussing communications and speechwriting strategy, but sometimes you've just gotta do what you gotta do.
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