I did not black out, so at least there was no chance of a concussion or anything.

IIRC, we’d spilled some olive oil earlier and cleaned it up, but the tiny bit of residue and the slick bottoms of my sandals was a recipe for disaster. Thankfully my dress was long so it covered up the massive bruise on my calf and I managed NOT to bruise my arm somehow. It happened so fast there wasn’t even time for the slow-mo NOOOOO that I usually get when I fall (I’m seriously such a klutz) and Todd was just like, ‘wait, where’d she go?!’

The awesome thing was that I spilled MAYBE a 1/4 cup of the chicken stock in the measuring cup in my hand. I kept that bad boy pretty close to level despite my sudden change in altitude. And what did spill landed on my dress, which had a busy enough pattern that you couldn’t tell.

It was a comedy of errors kind of day.

As for the rest of the evening, it was the hottest, most humid June I’d experienced possibly ever, and even though the party didn’t start until 7:30 it was still sweltering. Luckily, Kara’s step-dad had one of those monster-sized shop fans in the back of his truck and we had that and an oscillating fan going to keep things tepid.

And those damn wings didn’t even make it an hour into the party before they fell apart.