There's a melon-in-one chance of me choking to death on something healthy...

I don't think I spend an unusual amount of time thinking about my own demise but, occasionally, yes...I DO think about it. Naturally, I would like to perish in a manner befitting my personality. I would like it to be memorable and (God-willing) not TOO painful. Smothered in dachshund puppy kisses perhaps. A yellow marshmallow bunny Peep overdose. I'll even settle for falling off the couch and conking my head while reaching for the remote. Beloved guests of my funeral would nod reassuringly and remark, "At least she died doing what she loved."

Completing five hours of curriculum work on a Saturday (otherwise known as purgatory) does NOT fit into the "doing what she loves" category. But at least there was food! Juicy strawberries. Yummy pineapple. Scones. Danishes. A medley of melon.

As is always the case, in the absence of sugar-laden snacks, I will, begrudgingly, accept fruit as a temporary substitute (as long as it's pre-cut for convenient consumption). So...while my team was being AMAZINGLY productive, I was busy shoveling cube-shaped pieces of fruit in my face.

And then it happened...

I choked.

Like near-death...stay away from the light choked.  Palm raised to the ceiling in supplication to Jesus choked. All of the junk-food that I'd enjoyed over the course of my life flashed before my eyes. My team froze...awaiting the outcome. I yakked delicately like a cat, attempting to dislodge this deterrent to my breathing process. And finally, with one desperate push, I catapulted the cantaloupe across the room. I collapsed into my recently-vacated chair, tears streaming down my face. "Are you okay?" my friends asked, concerned. Gasping, I cried, "No! Out of ALL the ways for me to die, choking on a melon is NOT the way I want to go..."

Snickers bar? Maybe. But certainly NOT a melon. The only thing worse would be to vanquish from vegetables. Although the trick to survival in that circumstance is simply to "romaine" calm.