Yes, bruises.  Bruises everywhere.  Now, I am a Southern lady, not some back woods, tooth missing redneck who indulges in hair pulling, fist throwing or cat fighting.  I just seem to run into things more often and never see them until they just appear.  (Besides, the tooth missing thing would really bother me as I have no idea what I would floss!)  But, needless to say, I fell backwards off of a chair at a trade show, bruised my butt and bruised my ego.

I have to admit there is a part of every refined Southern woman who would like to beat the crap out of some idiot to the point of destruction at some point in our lives.  Instead, we smile.  We mutter a discreet obscenity under our breath and view it in our head in our technicolor.  The thought is delightful, but we never pull our dreams into fruition (nor do we tell our real dreams from the night before we eat breakfast as Momma always said that was bad luck…)

So, I made it through the show with 6 new bruises from who knows where except the imprint of the chair wheel on my behind, but I added four new biopsies the following day from the dermatologist.  This skin cancer thing is truly nothing to mess with and it is difficult walking in public watching small children point at you with four beautiful band aids placed strategically on your face.  The next time I am requesting Hello Kitty ones.  I think those will be much more appealing and more en vogue.

And the Bordeaux?  It is one day before 50, do I even have to explain?