Our friend, Kala, had her 'Sex in the City' birthday last night (that's 34th to you and me) so we did Dallas, so to speak. Yummy Mexican dinner at Manny's and then to some club I can't remember that opens at 9 and is on the corner of Allen and McKinney Ave. We had *ahem* a bit to drinks (I remember 2 margaritas, 2 mojitos, one shot of SOMETHING, and we went through three bottles of champagne someone bought us to make up for being a jerk on another night to Angela and Colleen.
This morning, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. No, not a hangover, although I do have a tinge of a headache. The bar we went to have a raised platform with some seating, and I busted it VERY dramatically because I didn't see that it was raised. No lighting, floor almost the same color, yadda yadda. Anyway, I went down HARD on both knees and they are quite colorful and sore this morning. That's not the best though. I have found my downfall, so to speak. Trying to dance 'low', then getting stuck. It's how I rebroke my foot in January. I remember falling backwards last night doing that and this morning it appears that tweaked my ankle. Not the one that was broken, but the other.
So, I've taken two Tylenol and I'm holed up on the couch with my foot iced and elevated. I'm letting Scott sleep in, and the boys are amazingly quiet upstairs.
Happy Father's Day to those Dads out there. Enjoy them while you can, because you never know when they might no longer be there.
If you missed it last month, here is my tribute to my Dad