project 365 #205: crane in biltmore village

project 365 #205: crane in biltmore village
Originally uploaded by mygothlaundry

I go hang out with my mother for an hour or two at least once a week and yesterday was one of those days. Yesterday, actually, was one of those days period. I had to go to a community planning meeting thingie and I had to go to the bulk mail place with a mailing (and I hate mailings) and then my landlord called because my neighbor called him to tell him my dogs were out which meant, of course, that I had to go back down to my car and drive home to find out that the dogs were happily on the couch with N and had in fact only been outside the fence for like 10 minutes. Too much driving hither and yon makes Felicity a very cranky girl, not to mention that 3 block uphill slog between parking space and office.

Anyway after work I drove over to my mothers to find that instead of an hour or so sitting alone with her getting the news of the aged - "So and so died. And you know so and so? Broke her hip. That other neighbor? Cancer." It's a rip roaring good time, let me tell you. - she had invited some other neighbors over to drink this Italian bubbly wine that she has just discovered and fallen in love with. I have not been drinking for the last two weeks but, alas, soda water is not an option when my mama has her heart set on some Prosecco. So I had some Prosecco and it wasn't too bad: it didn't give me an instant splitting three hour headache, which is my inevitable champagne response. It also didn't give me a buzz or induce in me any desire to drink anything else. The whole not drinking thing is freakily easy, actually; the only problem is it makes me misanthropic and disinclined to company. That's probably okay and bonus, I think I'm starting to lose some of the beer weight, which was the major impetus behind the whole thing.

This neighbor's husband recently passed away. I knew this, but naturally as always in such circumstance I have no idea what to say. Also naturally, I end up inserting my foot deep into my mouth. My mother had me open the wine, which is like champagne in that it's scary to open. My father installed a deep fear of champagne corks in me early on because he always saw opening a bottle as one of those big opportunities to wax enthusiastic about the possibilities of champagne bottle related death. That cork is under pressure - it could put your eye out. Or ricochet through one ear, bounce around your brain and then go out the other ear. Or, in some temporary suspension of the laws of physics, go straight through your heart! Argh! Be afraid! So of course I had to bring this up. "Hope I live through it!" I said brightly, aiming the bottle away from the ladies. "Shut UP," whispered my inner sane person, but it was too late. The cork came out.
"Look!" I said happily, "I survived!"
"GOD!" shrieked my inner sane person. "Will you shut the fuck up? Her husband just DIED."
"NIce to know I can live through opening a champagne bottle" I babbled on.
My mother was beginning to look a little desperate. I couldn't seem to stop. "To life!" I said cheerily. No, actually I didn't go that far. I think maybe someone stuffed an hors d'oeuvre in my mouth. Thank the gods. I really can't be trusted out of the house.