First of all, we got there at around 8:30 pm, which means that I had a fairly sore butt after the 8 hours of car ride, but that wasn't really an injury so much as a reason for not noticing my injuries sooner, lol.  By merely walking up and down to the cabin, the bathroom and the smoking area, I quickly got blisters on my feet.  Not one, but a whole passle across the pads of my feet.  By the time I went to bed, I was having trouble walking.  My sandals, while great for light walking and stuff, was not meant for these kind of treks.  I also found that for some bizarre reason, two of my toes were rubbing together wrong (more on that later).

So, by saturday morning, my feet *hurt*.  I hobbled to breakfast, almost late due to a late night before, and was relatively fine for the rest of the day.  Again, my problems don't really get worse until night fall.  There was much quaffing and partaking, which no doubt added to the problem.  In the midst of an amazing, fasinating discussion about energy work, I had to go pee.  So, of course, off I went to the portapotty.  Forgetting all about the log between me and it.  I hit it at full stride and went over so fast I was on the ground before I knew it.  I couldn't see it well in the dark, and my head was buzzing enough that I simply thanked the kind men who helped me off the ground, made it to the 'bathroom' and returned to the coversation.  It wasn't until later, as I was getting ready for bed that I could take stock of my new wounds.  My right knee was badly scrapped, my left lighty scrapped and the muscles of my left calf were pulled.  Thank the gods, all the alcohol in my system made cleaning them fairly painless.

So now I'm really hobbling, and feeling like a complete fool by sunday morning.  One of my new friends was a big help, but I still found myself waiting until my hubby came back from his walk to bawl a little over the embarrassment (not the pain, scrapes just aren't that painful after all the other crap I've dealt with).  I then precede to scrape more skin off the inside of a knuckle, which must have seemed like enough to me, since I wasn't paying any attention later when I was going down a set of stairs and my foot twisted onto my ankle.  Fortunately, I've twisted ankles before, badly enough to go to the hospital, so I know how to land and avoid major swelling and strain.  (the secret is to drop to the ground before your weight really hits your ankle; go limp and let your butt absorb the shock instead).  After that, I refused to go down stairs by myself; apparently I couldn't be trusted.  And no, at that point there was NO alcohol in my system, so I don't even have that to blame.

Skipping to the end of the weekend, I had: blistered feet, a badly scraped and inflamed knee (thankfully *not* infected), the other knee bruised and lightly scraped, a slightly scraped boob (apparently I landed on that too, but didn't notice till later), a sore ankle which makes that leg sore, while the pulled muscles in the other leg balance it all out.  And recall the sore toes?  Being relatively minor to my other ouches, I hadn't paid any attention to it, and so I was rewarded on monday during the trip home with even more pain, as the huge ass blister (half the length of the toes and almost as wide) popped and got to keep rubbing inside my sandal.  I didn't figure it out till I got home, and was medicating all my ills.  Sheesh.

I find myself asking; am I trying to tell myself something?  Don't do spiritual things?  Enjoying myself is bad?  What?  Or is it coming from out side of me... nah.  Sigh.  

Inspite of it all, I was more than able to enjoy myself.  Good conversation, cute guys everywhere, (and cute girls too, though I don't swing that way), nude swimming and sun bathing (with lots of sunscreen), and amazing parties.  I'm so thankful I'm a pagan!