True Story Illustrating my Gracefulness

So, this weekend at N's work was the annual fall bazaar. It's a collection of vendors from across Europe selling everything from stunning furniture to ceramic crap. People are crazy about certain vendors, including The Man Who Brings The World's Best Cheese, and The Woman Who Sells Antique-Looking Propellors. Christmas ornaments, wine, paintings, antiques, jewelry, candles, etc. It only happens twice a year, and it seemed like everyone within a 25 mile radius was there.

You can probably tell that this bazaar takes a lot of work and volunteer hours to exist. I loaned my Thursday and Friday afternoons to help, and I won a few bottles of wine for doing so! I picked them up yesterday, when N and I were walking around. After we were done browsing, we headed back to our car, not far away. The only thing between us and the car was a small parking lot and a staircase, nearly completely iced over. Because I'm a good wifey, I warned N, "Babe, don't slip! It's very icy."

Not two seconds later, on the second step, my feet slipped. I had a bottle of wine in one hand, and a Diet Coke in the other. I almost lost my footing. My hands were full. I couldn't get a grip on the railing. So I threw the wine and I threw the pop, and I saved myself!

The wine bottle hit the cement, breaking everywhere and covering the steps and my pants with alcohol. N was laughing hysterically, and had his hand on my back the whole time, trying to prevent me from what we both knew was innevitable. I was hugging the railing for my life, thinking the whole thing happened in slow motion. Typical Lindsay.

And damn. We're out a free bottle of wine.