I just got back from a block party.
We brought some wine and beer and those yummy lemon and herb fried pita chips. I poured a glass of wine for myself right away just to deal with the scary social situation. Someone made hugeass shrimp kabobs slathered in chives and cilantro. I ate one. The yum. And then you can guess what happened.
I walked around for over an hour with a huge chunk of green something stuck in my teeth trying to make small talk with people (including preteen girls who were trying not to make eye contact with the tooth thingy).
Then I poured myself a 2nd glass of wine and I ran into a woman with my very same name (icebreaker!). We talked for about 15 minutes about kindergarten and school buses and preteens and pregnancy and housing prices. She then started looking past me, spacing off, looking anxious, just when I was really gabbing. I could hear myself going on and on and OH MY GOD I COULDN'T STOP AND I COULD HEAR MYSELF SAYING, "Oh, my baby is growing up! Look at her! She's too tiny for middle school! Oh, and you just wait! You'll do things differently with your next one. And why are you letting your five year old pick her own school? She doesn't know what a good school is! And buses are boring! And my son has the same name as your daughter only he's a boy and she's a cute little girl and blah and blah and blah...). She then excused herself to stop her daughter from eating a brownie the size of my baby toe because "it will ruin your teeth!". That was her out and my cue to shut up.
And then I left with my glass of wine. I grabbed Robert (with his glass of beer) and our 2 sulking tweens (who were all, "They've got a bouncy house? Full of snotty kids? I don't think so!") and walked home. That was when Robert said I had something -and he pointed at the tooth just left of center- BIG AND GREEN RIGHT THERE.
Well, that's nice. Hopefully everyone will remember me now.
p.s. rumor has it a 1600 sq.ft. house a little north of us will be going on the market next week for $430K. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
You are a smart, smart woman. Why? Because you brought wine. I thought about bringing wine, and then didn't because I didn't want to advertise myself as the neighborhood lush. (I'm assuming these people don't go through my recycling, or they would already know).
Anyway. I showed up and they were just setting up. Hm. Mrs. Kravitz was there with the dog lady, so I latched on to them for a bit. A few people showed up. A couple drank beer out of paper bags. Jealous. So. Almost ran home for wine. Or beer. Whatever. Didn't.
I didn't meet nearly as many neighbors as I should have, due to the lack of alcoholic influence. No kids to talk about (and only 3ish at the "party") but there were some dogs. So some cat conversation. I learned Mrs. Kravitz is a nurse, so now I have to respect her. Damnit. Also met a UW genetic researcher. An owner of the Lake City Taco Del Mar. A massage therapist student who works for the UVillage QFC (so might know I'm a lush. But not like she works for the Trader Joes, so mebbe not).
1) I hate people
2) I hate telling people where I work. They're all "Oh. So how is that? (run away). or "can you get me a job?"
3)I'm embarrased that my house needs painting and landscaping. But now that I have precious glass of wine, I care less.
4) Everyone loved the woman who owned my house. I stopped trying to explain where it is and just said "Vi's old house."
5) I have braces. God only knows what I walked around with in my teeth all night. It's sorta a given for any party involving food.
P.S. should I eat the leftover pasta salad that sat for 2 hours and probably had bees eating it? Bees don't carry very many diseases, do they? 'cause the salad is good. and took a long time to make.
Yay! I love your story. And that you actually talked and LISTENED enough to find out where people worked. That's cool. Apparently no one on my entire block has a real job. They're all just musicians or photographers or stay-at-home moms/dads or freelance writers. And, oh, not a single person asked me if/where I work. I'm assuming they think I'm either a stay-at-home drunken mom or a drunken mom who you don't wanna talk to.
And you should definitely eat the leftover pasta salad.
I don't think they wanted to know, after all they were exhausted from your blibberkat mouth with green leafy substances!