Rocken' it at the Booksin Ball

So I jacked up my knee again.

While out on a run?, you ask.  I wish.  Pushing my Baby Jogger up a hill? you inquire.  Sadly, not.  While participating in lunges?, to build my non-existent glutious maximus?  Negative.

Did I re-injure my knee at The Booksin Ball after ingesting quite a lot of wine, and channeling my inner "Beyonce" while on the dance floor?  Yes!  Winner, winner, chicken dinner!

I guess getting parallel to the floor isn't so good for the old body.  But let me tell you...I had a GREAT time.  'Til the next morning, when much to my detriment, I hobbled out of my bed like a 98 year old elderly woman.

Tom and I hadn't been out since the babe has been born, so I was more than ready to get glammed up and get my groove on.  BTW, glam is code for:  really short black dress, my Vegas heels, and painting glitter across my eyelids because I think I'm Ke$sha.  Is that even how you spell her name?

I was a bit concerned though, when as we entered, and I saw some women wearing taffeta and sequined ball gowns, and some guys sporting tuxes, like at prom.  WOW.  Perhaps we are under-dressed, I thought.

 But then, it happened.  I turned around, and there before me, was a sight to behold: a 6 foot, 6 inch tall, kilt-wearing man, who was probably pushing 3 bills.  If that dude could sport a skirt, I could most certainly wear my hooker gear.  It was all good.

I loved that there was hair spray readily available in the bath rooms.  I didn't love how there were bottles of wine on the table that we couldn't drink.  Someone else had already purchased this wine.  Well, here's my 2 cents:  DON'T put alcohol on a table where inebriated people co-habitate, 'cause that's just asking for trouble.  I loved the slide show.  I didn't love that I saw the same pictures like 100 times while I was there.  I loved that they had a DJ.  I didn't love how the DJ only had vinyl.  I was really looking forward to dancing to "Raise Your Glass".  No can do.  Dude had shit like, "Say You, Say Me," by Lionel Richie.

I'll be really honest.  I didn't know what to expect that night.  Booksin has a ton of parent volunteers.  I'm talking a TON.   We've got Cornerstone, and BESCA, and Walk-a-Thon peeps.  We've got mama's who volunteer to be coaches, so my girls can participate in an after-school program called Girls on the Run.  These people devote their lives so our school can be an amazing place.

And then there's me:  the lady with all the kids, who just had ANOTHER baby, and makes her girls, gasp, walk across the grass to the car, so she doesn't have to get out.

I guess I was expecting folks to be sorta conservative, and mellow.  But I'll tell you what...even the taffeta and sequined ladies got down on the dance floor.  Come to think of it, so did Kilt-Man.  In  hindsight, it was very good that we said our good-byes before I pulled that dude out on the dance floor to swing me.  'Cause that's sorta where I was headed.

All in all, it was awesome night.  It rocked.  And I'm really glad that Tom and I left before I did something illegal.