Cocktails and conversations

I would say that these two aspects of life largely defined the weekend for me, in good and bad ways.

Prom came and went, and I did not have to respond to a 1:00 am phone call about a drunk student (for some reason, I would be in charge of any student who decided to indulge in illegal substance/s or to get up to any shenanigans). I was fortunate enough to leave on the 'early' side, around 10:30, which still felt late to me. Some of my colleagues enjoy the Prom chaperoning experience, which I find to be quite painful. Yes, the adults generally gather before Prom officially begins and toast the night to take an edge off, but the edge generally pulls itself right back on as soon as I begin to interact with the students. Let's not forget to mention that some of the students, most of them, really, are dressed to the NINES. The girls have taken the day off to have their hair and make-up professionally 'done', which just seems bizarre to me. On the whole, I love the place where I work, but I do question the message that we send or that we allow the students to send themselves - it's great to take a day off school to look wonderful for Prom because this is, of course, the *highlight* of your high school social career. Sigh.

As my 'date' (another teacher) and I commented, we just feel awkward in these situations, and Friday night's soiree was no exception. At the adult/chaperone cocktail hour, I happily downed a French 75, a champagne drink that dates back to the 1920's or so, named after an artillery gun called the French 75. The gun, apparently, had a quite a kick, as does the drink. I hoped that I would drink in peace, and let the events of the night unfold without engaging myself. Unfortunately, I made the terrible choice of sitting beside the head of school and then trying to involve myself in a conversation that he and a few other people were having. What a mistake. They were talking about such heady topics as democracy, history, and the writer, David McCullough. When someone asked if I had read anything by him, I stupidly said yes, but then fumbled with the follow-up question as to what I had read. Am I an idiot? Does it really matter that I haven't read anything by this author? Chalk up the stupid response to my awkwardness or complete lack of confidence (am I 16?). Honestly, I can't believe that I just baldly fibbed about having read an author. Brilliant. And was then called out on it. Even better.

Then, I stepped on a student's dress, and she reacted indignantly. Jeez! (See, totally awkward teacher - Sometimes I really feel like Tina Fey's character in "Mean Girls".)

Moving on to Saturday night, Michael and I had a cocktail hour at home which went much better than Friday night's escapad. He gave me a great little bartending book for my birthday, so we pledged that we'd perfect our mixologist talents this year. Before now, we hadn't done much experimenting, but last night we tried a "Gin Sidecar" with Hendricks, Triple Sec, lime juice and a cucumber garnish. That all packed quite a refreshing punch - I can't wait to have another one at some point. Not tonight. I think we had a bit too much fun last night! After watching Inglorious Basterds, we stayed up late looking at old pictures of ourselves. It was quite the treasure trove of bad hair and weird fashions.

Payback came this morning - late night, mixed drinks followed by wine. Ugh. It's been a slow day!