Yesterday, Hubs headed out to cover a house fire. When he got out of the truck with all of his camera equipment, he somehow managed to lock and close the door.

With the truck still running.

Clearly, I’m not the only person in our home who has issues with keys.

These recent events have brought to mind one of my most hilarious memories — the night my friend Amy locked herself out of our house while babysitting our then-1-year-old Tootie.

Hubs and I had gone out for a quick and much-needed adults-only dinner. When we pulled up to the house, two bedraggled and drenched figures stood on our front porch. Rain was coming down in sheets. Even so, I could still see that the garage door was raised by, oh … maybe a foot or so.

Intruders! my brain screamed. Break-in!

But why would burglars linger on the porch?

As we leaped from the car, I realized that the two sodden people were Amy and another one of my girlfriends, Jo.

Sheepishly, Amy explained the events of that night:

Having locked herself out of the house, she called Jo. (Luckily, she had her cell phone with her when she stepped outside.) Jo raced over. Then, in the midst of a downpour, my friends managed to force the garage door open just a wee bit and tried to slither underneath it.

When that failed, they ran back to the porch. Amy was dialing my number when we pulled up.

Tootie, of course, had slumbered blissfully through it all.

Now Amy is expecting her first little one, and I’m so, so hoping to babysit!

Which, given my own recent bad luck with keys, means I’d probably better get two sets from Amy.

So today.

Listened to hours of DNA testimony during a capital murder trial while arranging for someone to pick up my kids from school because the districts freaked out over stupid snow that was melting upon hitting the pavement AND emailing frantically with my Brownie troop co-leader over how to collect and input hundreds upon hundreds of orders of Girl Scout cookies.

And just as I was patting myself on the back tonight for my juggling prowess, I got a call from the copy desk with a very legitimate question about a paragraph in my story. It was a matter of using the wrong word, which was corrected in time for most editions of the newspaper — except for the one that will be landing on doorsteps in the county in which the trial is being held.

Ugh. The humiliation.

As many of you probably know, I’m not a fan of video games for kids. Mine like to remind me frequently that they’re the only ones who don’t have a Nintendo DS, a PlayStation or a Wii. And that’s fine with me.

When they get a little older, I’ll reconsider. After all, I had a passionate affair with Atari in my own youth. For now, though, I’d rather they play outside or with their toys. And it’s rewarding (as well as amusing) to witness what their imaginations bring forth.

Exhibit A.

Tootie with one of her friends

In this photo, the girls are in the back of Hubs’ pickup. And why yes, they have snakes coiled around their necks. The game? Wild coyotes were chasing them and Daddy’s truck was their only refuge. The snakes, I was informed, rattle at the approach of any canine critters. As for the umbrellas? Those were used to create a makeshift clubhouse. Not sure how the dresses factored in.

Having spent the past week at a hotel, I’ve returned each evening to a wonderfully tidy room. The woman who cleans it, Ruby, has even gone to the trouble of folding my scarf, laying my jewelry out neatly on the bathroom counter. (as opposed to the tangled little pile of bracelets and earrings I’d created) Yesterday she even left me a sweet little note wishing me a good afternoon.

I adore Ruby. I want to take her home with me. Because I’m pretty sure she could help me finally get organized.

Last week, I managed to lose a set of keys and my employee badge.

Last night, the restaurant I ate dinner at called the hotel and told the desk clerk I’d left a set of keys on the table. (I hadn’t noticed since I was carrying an extra set after losing my keys last week.)

When I returned to the hotel — after collecting my keys — I realized I’d left my hotel keys in the room. So I got two more. The clerk found this hilarious.

I’m going home today. Yet I fully expect a call from someone in this town in which I’m told I left yet another item somewhere.

Let’s just hope it’s not my glasses. Because that’s happened before too. Twice.

Kristy B! Email me at cfrye@arkansasonline.com to claim your prize! Make sure you drop by She’s Crafty to see who won the other lunchbox!

So very cute!

OK, here we go: (and yes, my baby is wearing a pink hat. Such is the life of the youngest child, who is subjected to hand-me-downs.)

Sledding via laundry basket.

My sweet little redneck children ...

The kids, of course, are thrilled. The puppy is puzzled, but game.

Big sister packs a big snowball.

This strange white stuff will NOT deter me from my ball chasing.

Snow! No school!

Why does that silly man insist on taking my picture? There's nothing to see here, humans. Move on.

I mean, look! We’re naturals!

What cuddly little guy...

Hubs snags the baby.

My ovaries are screaming: "Fertilize the egg!"

Can we take him home? Please, please?