It is... my ankle? Well, ok I didn't break it, just sprained it. The right one; the ol' "football" injury.
I had tickets to the ballet today ("Romeo and Juliet" - in case you missed my turn of phrase above), so I got gussied up for church, so I could just drop everyone off at home and head out from there.
As I was walking Baby R back into the house, my boot caught in the driveway and rolled my ankle. Tears, muffled swearing, a change of shoes, and a makeshift ice pack later, I left the house.
I had invited my mom to church to get her out into more social situations (an update there is overdue), and then went across town to lunch at the house of one of the girls I attend the shows with. I had to stop for gas, so I waited til I was across state line since it's cheaper. When I got out of the car, I accidentally locked my keys in. No, no, no!
DH had been super sweet and started my car for me this morning since I was running late. With his key. Which is the spare key. I was going to have to call a locksmith. Again. As if we have $100. to throw around!
I knew DH would be super pissed at me. I called him and then went to find a phone book in the QT. I called my friend to let her know I'd be late (if I made it at all). Then DH called me back and told me to check the back door first. It's been sticking and not always locking or unlocking. I said a quick prayer - well more of a desperate plea; you know how those moments are. I tried the handle, and it worked! God bless broken things!
My friend had made a lovely lunch of homemade sweet potato corn chowder and grilled cheese (a fancy version, both of which were AWESOME), and then we headed downtown.
Not being familiar with how the highway linked up from her side of town, and since she hadn't been to the new Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts yet, I called my dad for suggestions en route. This turned out to be a mistake that took us longer and through a less than desirable part of town. But we finally got there.
If you aren't seated when the show starts, you have to wait for intermission. We got to the parking garage five minutes before show time. Our seats are seventh floor balcony. We hustled as fast as I could with my weak ankle, and barely made it in time, our other friend entering right behind us (she had driven back from Wichita this morning).
The performance was lovely. The sets were gorgeous, the woman who portrayed Juliet was enchanting, and we had a lovely time.
As we left, we stopped on the third level down of the parking garage and said farewell to the friend who had met us there. Then we realized we had no idea which level we had parked on. We had been so worried about getting inside, neither of us had paid attention. I was pretty sure it was that level, so we walked about halfway across, and I hit the panic button on my key fob. The alarm went off. On a different level.
We quickly went upstairs to kevel two. Nope, that wasn't it. So we went back down. Once I had turned the alarm on, I couldn't seem to get within a range that would allow me to shut it off again. We were everyone's worst nightmare. Finally, we got all the way down to the fourth level and found my van.
Certainly a memorable trip. But I so love the ballet; it was definitely worth it!