Happy Annivorceary to Me!

That's right, I said Annivorceary ~ not Anniversary. The fourth anniversary of my divorce has just passed. I'd love to say that I came up with the term "annivorceary", but I owe that little gem to the writers from West Wing.

Now, before any of y'all get your pretty little panites in a bunch about my celebrating this milestone in my life. I am not, by any means, celebrating the fact that I got a divorce. I'm celebrating the fact that I survived one. Yay me!

I held a little soiree this past Saturday to celebrate this and to have my girls over to my new home. The last party I had with my girls had all the markings of a fabulous event: laundry room door was knocked off the track, a wine glass was broke, the carpet got spilled on and Patty passed out.

This year was a little more tame. I cooked a bunch of Mexican food and Patty mixed some "Sharritas" (these would be margaritas inspired by me - pink in color and peach in flavor - yum!). We even had the stuff to make some NOLA Screwdrivers, but surprisingly we didn't even break into it.

But, let me take you back a bit. Chris was going to show up an hour early so we could catch up before everyone else showed up. I was about to assemble the Enchizana when I remembered that I hadn't watered my rose bushes yet. So, I filled up a jug and went out front to water my pretty flowers and promptly locked myself out.

*sigh*

By the grace of God, I had my cell in my pocket and called Susie - who was already on her way over and was only a few minutes away with a spare set of keys. This isn't the first time I've locked myself out while watering the roses. And I'm apparently not smart enough to just leave the door open - so Susie has a spare set on her keyring to come save my dumbass.

Then Chris called. Shit! She was already there and couldn't find me. I said, "Girl take your time. I done locked myself out of the house."

All I heard was a deep sigh. And then she pulled up to my house, got out of her car and said, "Well, it's beautiful from the outside. You so sad!"

At aroung 9:30 we decided it was time to hit a dancefloor. We made it over to the Sandbar, did a shot of liquid courage and hit the floor. As usual, the boys found us. We spent the better of two hours dancing with boys and sweating like stuck pigs.

I woke up this morning with a pounding headache and smelling like the sweaty boy I danced with the night before. It was awful. I smelled like a fart. Seriously. I have never used so much body wash in my life. A few motrin later and some Huevos Rancheros for breakfast and I was back in business. I started cleaning up and was doing well for an hour before the hangover took over and I slept for four hours.

Ahhh...I love parties with my girls.