That First Steps a Doozy!

It has come to my attention that I am not as young as I used to be, or as I seem to have convinced myself I am.

Saturday night I headed to my neighbor's after work for another neighbor's birthday extravaganza.  These particular festivities happened to include a moonbounce.  Yes, a moonbounce.  No, it was not a child's birthday party.  S turned 38 this weekend.  So, I partook in the moonbounce fun and pulled a few muscles in my lower back.  And, that was just the precursor!!!  

I woke up Sunday feeling rather lousy, but I ran a few errands and went to lunch with Sir R.  We ran into J&J at lunch and joined them at a bar down the street for a couple drinks.  This was quite delightful for a bit.  Then Mrs. J got up to head downtown to see Blondie & Cheap Trick.  Sir R and I decided we wanted to go too.  Once the decision was made we got up, paid the tab, and decided to go out the back by way of the basement.  I have only been out this way once and I am not familiar with the terrain.  I'm sure you can begin to guess where this is going.  I turned the corner in the very short, pitch black hallway, made one step forward as I was switching on the light and there was no longer flooring beneath me.

I am going to take a brief moment to be serious.  Had there been light, well maybe I wouldn't have fallen at all, or maybe I would have broken my neck because I would have tensed up.  I tumbled, unlike any tumble I have taken before.

I rolled over and over down an entire flight of stairs.  Once at the bottom I found myself sitting in drywall dust and dirt with a filthy wound on my right shoulder (more like the nastiest rug burn I've ever seen, my skin is completely rubbed off) and what is going to be an epic bruise.  My back started throbbing more than it had been.  This all happened in a span of maybe 15 seconds.  Then I hear Sir R on the steps.  "Yes, Sir R, I'm okay.  No, Sir R, I don't want to move right now."  So I sat there trying to get dust out of my hair and off my shirt.  Needless to say we didn't go see Blondie.  Partially because I was having trouble walking and partially because lawn tickets cost $35.

Ugh...what a hot mess....

Watch Where You're Going!

I took Sir R to dinner on the Thursday before Baltimore's Artscape Festival.  For those of you that are unfamiliar - http://www.artscape.org/.  We went to our favorite place, Tapas Teatro, which happens to be located on one of the streets that is shut down for Artscape.  We had to park a block away and walk.  The street was closed down and there was a large trailer parked on the sidewalk.  Sir R was a little bit ahead of me (so we could squeeze by the trailer), and holding my hand, so I was walking a little faster than usual and was not exactly watching where I was going.  I mean, come on, who expects there to be a 4 inch metal pipe sticking out of the left side of a sidewalk!?

I'm sure you can guess what happened next.  Rather than walking over the pipe, I walked into it.  The pain was minimal as my endorphins kicked in, so I assumed I had just whacked my foot hard.  I'm thinking, "that'll be a nice bruise."  When we stepped into the restaurant I looked down to discover that my foot was bleeding heavily.  I'm talking big drops of blood rolling down the top of my foot.  To the bathroom I went to try to clean myself up.  After about 5 minutes I went and sat with my husbando, thinking that the bleeding had stopped.  I was certainly wrong.  It bled, although much more slowly, throughout most of dinner.  

Now, I have a lovely scar on the top of my foot.  I'm assuming that, in time, it will fade, as most of mine do.  (although I still have the gill shaped scar from my neighbor's lantern last summer, just not as noticeable.)  Please see scar photo attached.....

I'll Cut You

Dear Blog, it has been over a year. I would say I'm sorry, but if I was truly sorry I wouldn't have waited a year to visit.

A year of disasters have happened. But, I'll begin with my favorite -

I went to visit A. I love A dearly, but it is not often that her and I get to spend time chatting, just the two of us. We did just that on this particular evening. It was last summer, but it wasn't too warm so we sat on her porch. I took a half full, family sized bottle of wine. I am the lush that always brings her own bottle. I am the lush that is always asked to open the unopened bottle of wine...or maybe it's just the bartender in me.... Anywho - We drank a couple glasses, but there was still a little bit of wine left when I got up to leave. So, I corked the bottle and left almost exactly as I had come. A had already made her way back into her house as I crossed the street to where my car was parked.

Now, I must make a double side note. I almost always have on flip flops in the summer unless I'm at work or out on the town. Flip flops have no traction. Also, A and I decided to have a wine drinking pajama party, so I was wearing Frankenstein pj pants....

I go to step on the sidewalk and my right flip flop, well, flops out from under me. Or maybe it flipped....Down I went, wine bottle first. I managed to roll away, so my torso avoided the glass, but I can't say the same for my hand. And there I sat, surrounded by glass and red wine. I would have actually felt better about the situation had I been drunk. My only option was to call A for help, and out she came to the rescue. She may have even been wearing a super hero cape. She picked me up off the ground and took me inside to pick glass out of my hand, while her darling love Sir M went and cleaned up my mess. Hands bleed a lot. Just so you know.

I was finally sent on my way...again. I made it to my house without further incident, only to find that the college brats were parked in my parking pad...AGAIN. For the most part they are well behaved. But, if Sir R came home (he is no longer my fiance, but my loving husband) and could not park in the parking pad that he built behind the house that he owns, well, it isn't always pretty. Sooooo, I asked if the vehicle that was unknown to me belonged to anyone on the deck behind my house. Some poor fellow jumped up and came to move it apologizing over and over. I explained that it was not public parking, don't do it again, etc. As I am doing this I hear a call from the party "Who's that bitch!?" Before I let myself respond I looked down at myself in my Frakenstein pajama pants, broken flip flops (yes, the flop broke), and bloody, wine stained hand, and gave up.