If we sit down and think about it, we could all remember moments in the past when we would have liked to disappear into a hole in the ground. My friends and I sometimes relive these experiences and howl with laughter. Of course, at the time they happened we felt foolish, but they do make great stories and funny columns years later.

After years of having no nearby neighbors, a lovely woman from Atlanta built a house next door to us. She was recently out of town, and I noticed that a large, potted plant on her porch was leaning to the side. As all gardeners know, a potted plant needs daily water, especially in the hot, dry weather of South Carolina summers.

Attempting to be a good neighbor, I filled a watering can at my house and went next door to do my neighborly duty. First, I felt the hard, dry soil with my fingers and thought, "Not only does this plant need water, the soil needs to be turned over to let the water seep in." Then, I emptied the entire contents of the watering can and returned home feeling virtuous about being so helpful.

The next time I saw my neighbor, I modestly told her about the plant watering incident, and she laughed until her eyes teared up. 

"Shirley," she said, "that's an artificial plant!"

Well, I guess my boo-boo excludes me as a potential member of any garden club in the nearby vicinity.

Children are notorious for embarrassing you by blurting out the truth, usually in loud voices for all to hear. When my daughter was three, we were at the mall, and she asked, in an outdoor voice, "Why is that lady wearing her nightgown?" when we passed a very overweight woman wearing a muumuu.

When my granddaughter was two, she accompanied her parents to a  grown-up dinner at a clergyman's home. All went well until an appetizer of meatballs was served. After tasting it and finding it not up to her culinary standards, she loudly observed, "Daddy, these meatballs taste like poop!" My son said he felt like crawling under the dinner table.

Before we moved to South Carolina from New York, I read a book called "Living in a Small Town." The author gave some helpful hints to new residents on avoiding embarrassment. When you live in a big city and suffer a mortifying incident, you may never come across the person again. In a small town, the book cautioned, you will invariably meet the person the next day. 

Luckily, I heeded the advice in the book and so far haven't embarrassed myself to the extent that I want to hide under a table.

T&D Correspondent Shirley Upton can be reached by e-mail at writer@ntinet.com. Discuss this and other stories online at TheTandD.com.

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