Without Details:
I wore a dress and had no where to clip my wireless pack. I played guitar on Christmas Eve. I dropped my guitar picks during one of the songs. I couldn't pick them up. Rusty picked them up for me. Tom laughed at us.With Details:
I usually wear jeans and a nice top with ballet flats, but for this performance I decided to go with a red and brown flowered dress with matching brown boots, giving nothing for my wireless guitar pack to clip onto except an inconveniently placed belt at my waist. Standing on the large stage in the middle of the auditorium of my church with my acoustic guitar on, happily situated between my two electric guitar players and surrounded by the rest of the band, was where I found myself on the evening of Christmas Eve. During an upbeat heavy-on-electric-guitar instrumental song, I clumsily dropped my guitar pick as well as the two backup ones waiting on my music stand and could not appropriately bend down in my dress, which fell just above my knee, with my guitar on to retrieve them. I looked left to Rusty before sadly glancing down at the pile of brightly colored plastic picks scattered around my brown boots, littering the dark carpet covering the stage. He took a few steps to where I was stationed and danced his way down to the floor while holding his light blue and white Fender Stratocaster and gathered the wayward picks and placed them back in my hand, all while we struggled to hold back laughter. Right off stage, Pastor Tom, who is familiar my occasional uncoordinated tendencies, was watching Rusty and I while laughing, not in a disapproving or critical way, but in a way that displayed the joy, humor, and normalcy he found in the situation.
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