I spent last evening at a wedding reception in The Historic Hoosier Gym. Guys, this is where the movie Hoosiers was filmed. That’s an iconic movie if there ever was one. Actually, I don’t know how iconic it is outside the state of Indiana. But here, you’ve probably seen the movie 12 times before your 9th birthday.
The reception was wonderful, the bride was absolutely beautiful, and the company was grand. You’d think I’d have lots of pictures of the whole shebang. You’d be wrong. The best picture I took all night was of the locker room. Seriously. And let me tell you about that locker room. It smelled just like a musty high school locker room. It was almost overpowering.
I got all types of gussied up for this par-tay. I was talked into believing that women wear dresses to weddings; pants aren’t allowed. I had no idea. I haven’t been to a wedding in the last 10 years where I wasn’t a bridesmaid, so of course I wore a dress to those. Who knew that women always wear dresses to weddings? Apparently, pretty much everyone. So I had on a dress. I bit the bullet and pulled the black strappy heels out of the closet because I figured I was going full bore. This was the first time in a long time that I’d worn heels (the last time being when I fell over backward in my boss’ office in front of three other people). I wasn’t sure how the knee was going to hold up, but it did remarkably well. I suppose the pain medicine I took helped, but I made it through the night. I even dusted off a few of my dance moves. Sprinkler, anyone? No? Shopping cart?