Wine School: An Attempt to Meet People

I just returned from Wine School. I signed up a few weeks ago, not to learn about wine, but to try and meet people. This class always sells out - always - so I figured maybe I would make a new friend, maybe there would be a cute guy, perhaps I would learn something. I realized that it was very yuppie and likely on the list of stuff white people like, but at least I would get out of the house. Which is something I seem to do less and less of these days on the weekends I don't have J. I miss that little boo.

Of course, the class I go to had sold out but of the 20 spots only 9 people showed up. And were comprised of two couples, two girls together who were like 23, and 3 cougars. I count myself among the cougars, although I was the youngest so maybe cougar-in-training is a more appropriate description of me.



Clearly wine school is something that desperate middle aged women do to entertain themselves and/or meet men. I am a cliche.

I met no men and made no friends.

But I did LOVE wine school. It was really fun and I learned alot. My knowledge of wine is quite limited. Like when Mama V told me to DRINK THE BOX-O at beer bike years ago, I did and I LIKED it. Bizarley is hawking a new brand of boxed wine, and I am like, hmmm - I should get that.

I also will gladly drink Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill and not in an ironic way. It is delicious.

But at wine school, I learned about non-boxed wine. And I want to sign up for another class, with the motivation just being to learn, not to meet men.

I am disappointed that there was not even a prospect in attendance. Another example of how I am trying, but nothing is happening. I am starting to think I may actually never, ummmm hook up, for lack of a better way to say it, again. I watch shows like the Tudors and tear up during certain scenes because I don't even remember what it is like to do such things. Sorry if this is TMI. There was alot of wine at wine school. And now, per usual, alot of whine in this post.

My Imaginary Boyfriends

As I have no actual boyfriend here is a list of my imaginary boyfriends by category (please note that I use "imaginary" to refer to the fact that each individual is not actually my boyfried, some people are real and some are not):

Imaginary Vampire Boyfriend: Eric on True Blood - less sparkle than Edward and no competing with Bella/the love that lasts for eternity.

Imaginary Gangsta Boyfriend: Stringer Bell - yes, Wire fans, I know this imaginary boyfriend has some issues beyond the fact that he is a hard core drug dealer, but do not forget that he is an IMAGINARY boyfriend.

Imaginary Chef Boyfriend: Hubert Keller - the french silver fox of cooking. He just rocks and can cook meals worthy of three Michelin stars.

Imaginary Upper East Side Boyfriend - Chuck Bass. Enough Said.

Imaginary Reality Self Help Show Host Boyfriend - Dr. Drew. JUST KIDDING! I hate that guy. Steve Ward of VH1's Tough Love. I think he is cute and actually makes sense when he advises women on dating. And if we break up he can match me up with someone else.

Imaginary Dancing Boyfriend - Ade of So You Think You Can Dance. Absent his "magic pick" he was hot and could spin me around with ease.

Imaginary Food Service Boyfriend - the guy at the Corner Bakery in the building of my office. I have a crush on him and only will go into that Corner Bakery when I think I look cute. So like once every fiscal quarter.

Imaginary Local News Broadcaster Boyfriend - Adam Joseph of Channel 6 Action News. He kind of smacks of guido which I not so secretly find attractive as I am from NJ.

Imaginary Sugar Daddy Boyfriend - is totally made up. He is single, somewhere between 38 and 45 years old, has made alot of money, is attractive (to me at least) and like me enough to replace the diamond stud earrings that were lost or stolen last week.

I am sure that there are more imaginary boyfriends in my future.

Difficult

is the nicest word I can think of to describe my child this weekend. Right now I am listening to her scream at the top of her lungs instead of going to bed. She was bad this afternoon* and I told her that if she didn't stop doing something bad, one of the 1,000 bad things she did today, I wasn't going to read her a bed time story. She didn't stop, so I am not reading a story and she is having an absolute fit. It breaks my heart to hear her screaming, but I cannot have her continue to act as poorly as she did today.

And it is not the first time today I have listened to her scream at the top of her lungs today.

Some of this behavior is likely my fault. I have had a short fuse with her lately, I have been busy at work, tired, lonely, and my diamond stud earrings went missing. She is a great kid, so I feel bad. I don't know how much of it was my fault, likely 95%, but it has been a rough weekend for the most part.

I just want it to be over.

So that it can all happen again tomorrow.

*we were supposed to go to a birthday party but the main highway through Philly was CLOSED. By the time we got out of the backed up traffic because of the closure we would have gotten to the party about 1.5 hours late. So we didn't go. I felt bad so I told J we could make cookies. So we did - chocolate chip from scratch. I am trying, really I am.

"That" Mom

I think I am going to be "that" mom in Jillian's class. You know the one who barely has it together, forgets to pick up her kid, doesn't go to parent teacher conferences, basically the one that all the other parents look down on and judge. Because the other day I received this email:

*******
Dear Parents & Board Members,

This Thursday, July 23, at 8:15, there will be a coffee on the 3rd floor of the GTS Primary to introduce teacher. Please RSVP. The coffee is for adults/parent. We will be setting up another time for the children to stop by while teacher is setting up the classroom.

It’s going to be a great year. See you Thursday.

From,
Principal
*******

So I RSVP that I am going to be there and I show up on July 23 at 8:15pm. The school is locked, there is no one in sight. Because, duh, the event was at 8:15am - it was a COFFEE. Yup, don't expect cupcakes on J's birthday class, or me to be organizing field trips. Oh and J likes to tell people about "dada's new friend" and how said new friend "sleeps over" and "likes coffee" but isn't "dada's friend E that used to live with us." Awesome. She will tell the other kids this kind of stuff and I am sure their parents will be mortified. I take my place as "that" mom.

J is right to cover her eyes in shame. And yeah, that is a vegas t-shirt she is wearing.

First Class

Anyone lucky enough to have flown first class, and I get to count myself among that group, knows that sucks when you have to fly coach. Which for me is 98% of the time. This Tuesday I experienced going to a baseball game first class. And it was AWESOME. Yes there is the idea that nose bleed seats and a $10 hot dog next to some fat guy rooting for the other team has its own appeal, but on the other hand, there are diamond club seats at Citizen's Bank Park.

I won the tickets in a raffle a few months ago. I have actually been on a raffle winning streak, I have won every raffle I have entered in the past year - a DVD player, Bose headphones, a set of upscale cosmetic bags, and these tickets. I would trade my luck in raffles for luck in (1) dating or (2) job hunting. But I am happy winning the raffles nonetheless.

Especially when you go to a phillies game and Tommy LaSorda is sitting 10 rows BEHIND YOU. I said hey to him as I walked up to the bathroom. And there is waitress service. And you are sitting almost on the field. And the Phillies win.

It was just awesome. Here is a picture that shows how close we were, but please keep in mind that it was taken at 10:30 pm during the 13th inning. My hair looks cuter in person.

Sesame Place

Today J and I went to Sesame Place because her nanny needed the day off. I have been busy at work, but figured I would take advantage of the extra J time. Plus, our friend A, who is employed by the parent company of Sesame Place, hooked us up with the tickets.

We had a blast. Splashing in the various water playgrounds, trying to chase down Ernie to give him a high five, enjoying an Elmo cupcake. Unfortunately my camera has decided that it only takes pictures of black rectangles. So I have no pictures of the day.

Then we came home and J watched an episode of "Wipeout." You know that stupid show where people try to bounce across red balls and go down zip lines while getting punched in the face by mechanical boxing gloves? J loves it. She watches and shouts WIPEOUT every time someone, well, wipes out. It is hilarious to watch her watch it.

Oh and I cut off all my hair. Over 10 inches. It is really short, but I think I like it. I donated it to locks of love. So hopefully it will help someone else feel better in some small way.

Does this mean I am an adult, like officially?

Today I got Jillian's class list. The one of the kids that will comprise her class in the fall and their parents. And there I am - right under Jillian's name. X is there too. Both of us with are contact information showing our recognizable in Philly law firm emails.

So I am the parent of a kid going to school and the other parents could feasible discern that I am a lawyer.

Totally weird.

Especially because lately I have been trying to channel my chubby fifth grade self, who landed in Catholic school after 4 years in the local public school and thus was the odd kid out. I remember being lonely, and feeling like nothing would ever change, but less lonely than I am now. And being stressed out because I felt like no matter what I did a nun was yelling at me, whereas I had always been a "good" kid when I was in public school.

I coped with my life as a fifth grader - I remember reading alot and having after school activities and finding some relief from the loneliness in those things. Seemed to work at the time, so I am trying to be that chubby girl again. To find solace in a good book, to not care that that the next day I had go to school in my blue plaid polyester jumper and knee socks that would invariably fall down causing the nuns to freak out.

I am not exactly sure it is working, because I can't find the inherent peace of a preteen just accepting that she is kind of a nerd and losing herself in a book. Not really knowing what she is missing. I also don't have my mom to give me a hug and listen to me cry as I tell her about how no one talks to me at recess or how Sister Anne screamed at me because I brought the wrong marble composition notebook to Math (I mean we were only allowed to have black and white marble composition notebooks - they all looked the same! It was a reasonable mistake).

So the arrival of the class list with my name listed as a "parent" was a bit ironic as I have recently rekindled my younger "hey I am not missing anything" self. I threw a little nip of brandy in my tea tonight, to remind me as I read my book that I am an adult.