What a Mess

Those of you that have known me long enough (or perhaps even new friends), understand that "graceful" is not an adjective used to describe me. I'm very clumsy and in addition to breaking a few plates and glasses here, I have also broken a glass lampshade in our bedroom. I have close calls daily where something slips out of my fingers and onto the floor. Usually I'm lucky and nothing gets broken or ruined. The story below is the exception. (Sarah, Forrest and Nate correct me if I jumble the details).

On the Myatt-Paul's last night, we went to the Augustiner Kellar bier hall. To get there, we take a tram which runs in the middle of the road on cables. We had just finished at the Kellar and began to head home. We were walking to the tram stop and then suddenly heard the tram quickly approaching. If we didn't run we'd miss it! So we all broke into a jog, even Sarah with Luke in the stroller. We jogged along the street until all the cars had gone past so we could cross. Forrest, being ahead of everyone, crossed first, then Nate, Sarah and finally me). I must've caught up with Sarah or passed her (she did have the stoller after all) because the next thing I knew, my feet were stumbling. I tried to re-balance myself, but to no avail, I came crashing down in the middle of the road, landeding hard on my hands and knees with my purse somewhere to my left. Mind you, the tram was ahead of us, and we were still trying to make it. Thankfully, we did.

But when I got in the tram we surveyed my damage. I had muddied up my jeans, torn through one knee and was bleeding. My white mittens were a green black from the wet ground. We could not stop laughing. Apparently, since it was dark, I had forgotten about the little curb that separates the cars from the trams and it took me down hard! Thankfully, Sarah, being behind me, saw me fall and avoided the obstacle. So, although I'm a klutz, I'd like to think I saved Sarah and the baby. Some of you may be thinking "Well, Shera, don't run after drinking! That's what happens." And this is the saddest part. I was the ONLY one not to have an alcoholic drink that night. But I wish I could blame it on intoxication.

We got home, I cleaned myself up and Sarah, channeling Martha Stewart-like abilities, sewed my ripped jeans. Thank you SO much Sarah! Anyways, now I have scrapes and bruises all over my legs (those bruises from sledding last weekend are still there) and I probably have the world's least sexiest legs right now. I look like a victim of domestic violence. Good thing it's still winter because I'm a mess.