I have a bruise on my chin. I look like I’ve gotten punched, though only if you look up at my chin from the ground. Yes, it’s a bruise on the underside of my chin… along the jawline, you know.

It happened on New Year’s Eve and I wish I could say it was the result of some wildly fun moment but really it’s because I slipped and fell on the ice.

It was before we’d even left the apartment parking lot.

We were all dressed and ready to go. La Doyenne was wearing a charming black and white dress. Her boyfriend was in jeans and a button down (the new club casual uniform) and I was wearing jeans and a sweater. Jeans and a sweater because it was 15 degrees when we left and only 4 degrees  by the time we were heading home.

With these duds I was also wearing my boots: knee high, black, with heels. Right.

He had gone down the stairs first  and then I followed. A step that I had trod when I’d arrived, and countless times before that, without incident sent my feet flying out from under me. Not just out from under me, out from behind me leaving me to fall on my face into the deck and accompanying cement slab.

Fortunately, I had the good sense to lift up my head neatly avoiding a broken nose; hence the bruise. Another fortunate thing is that the girl with pants on was the one to discover the ice. I know how it is to slip and fall in a dress and it’s far worse than slipping in pants simply because there’s so much skin to ice contact. Yet another fortunate thing is that I made it away with only a bruise and a couple of gashes.