Of Wine and Whine

We had a great 65th birthday par-tay on Friday for my father. He seemed very, very happy, and that was really what we wanted most of all. My siblings and I all made and brought appetizers, food and a marzipan cake for dessert.

Judging from the enthusiastic food reviews, we did well. Of course, I've never been to a party where the guests openly admit that the food sucks. So who really knows? I choose to believe that they raved more than they had to, and therefore, that the food was actually kind of good. I'm a glass half full kinda girl (stop making that choking sound, Mike).

My mother supplied fabulouso Italian Valpolicella red wines.

[Cue reverie music]

I.Love.Valpolicella.Wines.

And so does my sister - my partner in crime. So much so that by the end of the night, we felt compelled to finish off the last bottle ourselves, without sharing with our guests. Yes, we did. We are generous souls.

Which may be why I woke up with someone else's body yesterday morning. Someone who's slow, heavier than me, and who gets nauseous when making quick or sudden movements.

When I groaned to Mike that I am cutting out red wine for life, he had the nerve to laugh at me. And under normal circumstances, that would have offended me mightily.

But all I could think of was how much fun it was going to be to take several 11-year-olds out for pizza and a movie that afternoon in celebration of Christopher's birthday.

In someone else's body!