Breaking the plates

While I failed to get any photos of us all doing a traditional Greek dance in Amy's drive way, rest assured, it was quite a fun spectacle. There was a tradition that Doris explained - something about bringing the joy into the day - but I missed it with the laughter and all the blood flowing to my head from all the exercise.
Here is our beautiful hostess Amy, handing out very nice plates to break. Note the look of stunned incomprehension on Rachel's face. Other than one person, none of us had ever broken plates before so it was an experience not to be missed.
Allison, who my mother described as, "The Funniest Person She's Ever Met," bravely breaks the first plate.
Me, timidly, throwing a small blue plate. What you don't see is the next frame, where I narrowly avoid my foot. Having never shown much sporting aptitude, this proves to be no different when I promptly throw the plate directly on the concrete, squarely in front of my toe. I am given no more plates to smash, probably a good thing for my limbs.
My mother, sagely utilizes an underhanded throw, thus sparing us all the embarrassment of another Non-Sporting, Toe-Threatening, Faiola Family Moment.
The Aftermath. It doesn't look like much but they had been 18 very happy plates just a few minutes before.