That's a spicy meat-a-ball-a

Yesterday I went back to step class for the first time since I attended the one at Grande Ronde Athletic Club with my friend Jen while getting in shape for my nuptials almost 6 years ago. I had forgotten how much fun it is, and what a great workout. However, when we did jumping jacks, I felt Jell-o Jigglerific in a couple places...What is that, and how did it get there?! Nothing more than motivation to persevere, my friends.

After picking the kids up from child watch, we ate lunch in the lobby and then I took H down to the NAZ to play for about an hour before we headed home so that I could bide my time until I could wake J up and go take a nap.

Nap time came and I was o.u.t. out. I don't generally like to take naps as I usually either sleep too long or have the opposite where I just fall asleep and the kids wake up...not today. I slept for a full hour and a half, then it was out of bed to shower and get ready for my night.

We had a sitter coming in an hour and I got to shower, shave, blow-style and apply make-up... with my bedroom door closed and locked while J took care of dinner and bed-time routine. All the while the whispered promises of J for the evening kept floating in my head...'open bar' 'free dinner'. That's right folks, I had a date with destiny.

We arrived at the restaurant and found that we were the first couple to arrive, as the majority of the attendees were in a long meeting completing the rankings of this year's interviewees. Because I am a total free-loader, I'd eaten almost nothing all day in order that I could fully enjoy the evening's offerings. Therefore, because we waited about forty-five minutes before the others arrived, I consumed three glasses of wine on an empty stomach...'aaaaaaaaaand, I'm drunk.'

The food at the restaurant was good, but when the owner served us at the buffet, it was very much like I imagine one of Tony Soprano's entourage would do it. When one of the people ahead of me asked what was in the chafing dishes, he answered with a harsh Wistah-boston blend of an accent while pointing them out 'lasagna. chicken. tortellini. ziti. meatballs. sausage.' No muss, no fuss. I turned to J and made a wisecrack maybe slightly louder than intended. I'm pretty sure that Tony didn't hear me because I left the restaurant that night with both kneecaps intact.

That's amazing for another reason, as I had the genius idea to wear the shoes I'd worn in Sherri's wedding this summer. It's not often in the life of indentured servitude motherhood that I find the opportunity to wear black satin open-toed heels with bling across the strap. Oh, did I mention it's not risen above 20 degrees in about four months and the town is covered in a sheet of ice? Combine that with the wine I'd consumed, and it's a miracle I'm not still laying in the parking lot this morning dying of laughter after my attempt to ice skate to the car resulted in a fall. My knight-in-shining-armor could apparently foresee that outcome because he had a firm grasp on my hand from door to door...awww, my hero!