Wine Night

You know what is pretty scary?

Women.

Women can be very scary.

A whole room full of women can be very, very scary.

Even if these women are your friends.  There is still a small chance that they could turn on you.

Probably the only beast God created that can judge you before it rips out your throat.

Michael, typically, did not understand what I was SO stressed out about on Tuesday night, as I prepared for ten women to come over to my house for book club.

TEN women.

That is more people than have ever been in my house.

By like...ten.

In the past my idea of entertaining has been setting out a bag of Tostitos and a jar of queso.

And quite honestly, most of the time it's the Walmart brand of corn chips that are really cheap.  So I technically don't even serve people whole chips.  I serve them chip pieces.

What's that?  Jarred queso is supposed to be warmed before serving. 

Well.  Just chalk that up to something I'll know for next time.

And no, the chips aren't even in a cute basket.

So, understandably, I was at DEFCON 5 at 6 pm on Tuesday night.  Simultaneously on the phone with my mother, delegating to Michael, who was trying to explain to me what an egg white was, and googling 'italian bread crumbs'.  I had regular bread crumbs.  Possibly if I just threw in some parmesan they would be 'italian bread crumbs'?

I'm told no.

In my opinion, if you put parmesan on something it's a least a little bit Italian. 

Especially if you pronounce it like Giada does.   Parmigiano reggiano...

Then it's at least 75% Italian. (This is true.  Just trust me)

Me:  WE NEED MORE WINE!

Michael:  You have FIVE bottles of wine.  On what planet is that not enough?

Me:  On my planet.

Michael:  Everything is going to be okay.  There will be plenty.  Plus, people have to drive home, they can't drink that much.

Me:  Listen.  A large majority of these women are mothers.  They are good for at least a bottle a piece.  A few of them are attorneys and mothers.  So basically when they go to work they get to mediate more toddler arguments...but with adults.  I'm going to safely say they can probably put it away.  Except the pregnant one.  We'll have to watch her.  And one is responsible for keeping people asleep while their insides are being sliced open.  Sliced open.  I can't even imagine the day she's had?   Now that I stop and think about it, how are these women my friends?  They are all very professional and impassioned about things.  I PICK MY FEET AND EAT QUESO!  And our carpet is really dirty!  Why didn't we recarpet when we moved in!? 

Michael:  You are getting a little hysterical.

And then, like Henry at the fair, my head exploded.

Two appetizers were served.  That I had never made before.

When my mom heard that.  Her head exploded. 

My mom:  (on the phone at 6:30, guests to arrive at 7 pm) You've never made any of this before!?

Me:  Holy shit. I can't handle this. It's like you don't even know me!.

My mom:  It's going to be fine.  Don't worry.  If the food is bad, you'll have plenty.  If it's good, and you run out, it's still fine.  It's not an all-you-can-eat buffet.  And if all else fails, there's wine.  I love you.

Thank God for moms.

And husbands.  Who make your egg wash and season your bread crumbs, while you hyperventilate. 

It actually went well...I think...

There was a point where conversation was centered around the nominees for District Court Judge and all I could think was:

What are they saying?  I don't understand any of these words.

I hope no one looks at me.  The most significant thought I've had today is realizing that my feet are really ugly and I need to do something about that. 

I hate winter feet!  You forget about them because they are socked.  And then one day you look down and scream.

Like I said, I have no idea how I fell in with this group of people.  It was probably an accident.

Actually, I think it was my husband.  People assume because he acts professional and normal...

That his wife must be too.

Mmmm.  Notsomuch.

I would like to thank all the lovely ladies that attended.  I think we all had fun.  Or at least you pretended well, which I appreciate. 

No one even batted an eyelash when I got into a rant about dying infants.

I'm not sure how it happened.  I think I had four glasses of wine in me at that point. (I blame the stress.)

But let's all just agree to not talk about my job at book club. 

That'll kill your buzz.