THAT'S Your Mom?

Last night I went to a much-needed happy hour after work. I had every intention of having ONE drink and leaving after an hour. However, sitting outside in a beer garden on a sunny, autumn afternoon laughing with other adults felt really, really good. It felt carefree in a way that I am not often carefree these days. Not that it's a bad thing to have this responsibility - I would not want to go back permanently - but for two hours, it was nice.

Until I realized I was a bit buzzing and ten minutes late for the parents' meeting at Oz. Que horor.

I frantically tried to call my beloved to let him know that I would be late, while attempting to display a calm exterior for my friends. I had a feeling said beloved would be none too happy with me for showing up late and smelling like Ernest & Julio. At least it was outside, so I didn't also reek of cigarette smoke. Thank goodness for the little things.

I trucked in there as quickly as I could and met up with my beloved. Then we sat and listened to the parents of older children gripe about the teachers in the Pooh's Pals room (I think Pooh's Pals are around two years old). I made a mental note to get the little angel the hell out of Compton by the time she is two. All the complaints the other parents seemed to have, though, did not apply to the little angel's cohorts, so I was feeling pretty good about my village in Oz by the time we left. I questioned the judgement of parents who were worried that Oz earning a Missouri state certification would up their tuition (no, don't improve! It might cost more!), but other than that, it was an interesting experience.

Then I went home, decided to have ANOTHER glass of wine (hey, I had already thrown the Points thing out the window by that time) and proceeded to have a feature-length dream in which Matt Damon first tried to get me fired by erasing my hard drive and then tried to kill me by running me down on a twisting, seaside road in his Mazda. I'm not sure how to interpret this dream. I don't work with anyone who looks like Matt Damon. So perhaps it's a sign I should cut back on the People magazine. I'm not sure.