Dear Awkwardness,

I feel that I have a newfound appreciation for the expression "trip at the finish line".  Sure it has nothing to do with a literal finish line, or tripping, but still...I would say that dropping the pan of twelve servings of chicken  and sauce that I was delivering onto the church house kitchen door loosely qualifies.  Also, I love that I'm no longer trusted around chicken and that "I wouldn't want to do an Allison" is becoming a catch phrase among my presidency.

Chicken-less, but feeling sheepish,
Allison