School begins again tomorrow, and although I am disappointed that I did not get all of the classes that I wanted, maybe it is a mixed blessing. I am not as energetic to begin as I was last semester. Getting over the stress of December, the aftermath of the accident, finals, and of course the holidays, was alot. I am finally actually pretty rested, and although the doctor kept telling me 5 weeks with the pins, it actually meant 7, and they are still in my hand. At least I can get in and out of the splint and attempt to type with both hands again. (slightly longer posting ability also...)

Frank just came on the itunes shuffle and it reminds me of the outing from last night.
I went to a local establishment, Plaka Taverna or maybe it's Taverna Plaka... whatever, it's a Greek place on Cheshire Bridge Rd, right here in Atlanta, Ga. It's the closest thing to night club dining that I have ever attended. First, our 9:30 reservation turned into something more like 10. The crowd was unbelievable at the bar, just like a night club, and the music was just as loud.
First, the "Greek Crush" drink is by far the best "Greek" cosmo served inside the Perimeter... a definite must have. And of course, we all had at least two of the liquid refreshment. (literally, it was easier to get the waitress to bring those than water...)
Second, at this late hour on a Saturday night I highly recommend the "shared" family meal that of course our waitress so whole-heartedly recommended. It was probably the only thing that was going to come out of the kitchen at this point anyway.
As our meal neared it's end, women started to climb onto the chairs and onto the tables to dance to the ever loudening music... most attempting to mimic the live performing belly dancers that were on hand to shake a tailfeather.
Not that it mattered, because the smoking section was so nearby our table, a few of us went away to catch a quick cigarrette. For whatever reason I had left the stint (the hand/pin protector) at home, probably because it is easier to eat without it. Of course, I got slammed by a lovely young Buckhead lass that I restrained myself from stepping angrily onto her pedicured toes!
By the time that I returned to the table my remaining drink had mysteriously disappeared and desert had arrived... no desert plates to be had (*but we did have individual forks, our waitress was happy to report)
Not wanting to be left out, my friends joined in the merriment and did a few table dances just for us! (and,no joke, there is a sign exempting responsibility of the owners of people dancing on the tables..."Dance at your own risk!") I would post photographs, but I cannot get any help from our technical department over at Propeller Skies!
How does this relate to Frank??? Oh yeah, back for a nightcap, we had an opportunity to dance late into the night to his tunes!