Red Wine, Weird Dreams

On Saturday night, Hubby and I went out (together! no kids!) to celebrate his sister Kit's fiftieth birthday. It was a surprise party at an Italian restaurant with thirteen of us in attendance. His other sister, Kat, and her boyfriend, Frogman, drove with us. We arrived early to put up a few decorations. We all had a beer once we were done decorating, and were waiting for everyone else. Kat and Frogman each had a second beer, and then Frogman and I decided to share wine with dinner. Hubby doesn't drink much, and he can't do wine at all anymore (age! Seriously, though, the sulfites and tannins make him very ill even with half a glass), and Kat was at the next table, sticking with beer. It was a lovely red, not too tannin-y, and it paired nicely with our appetizers. By the time the main course arrived, the wine was gone, so we got a second bottle. I was a little worried about singing the next day because, even though I was not drunk, just feeling a little happy buzz, wine has been giving me pretty wicked hangovers lately (just dehydrated and headachey). Oh well, that's what Advil's for, right?

Sunday morning dawned peacefully (Corwin and Clara had slept over at my parents' place), and Hubby and I headed to church - me with coffee only, no need for Advil. I'm calling the restaurant to get the name of that wine because it was lovely, and so was the lack of headache!! I did have weird dreams, though. Allow me to elaborate, but first a little background info. Do you recall the panic I had back in November about winning the bid for the research consultation with Handsome British Researcher? Well, I finally sent him some questions, and a got a reply asking for my phone number and a time for him to call me. I sent the info, and another question, but have been trying to think of something else to send (sadly, I go blank when I think of trying to sound smart enough to have this conversation with him. Again, what was I thinking when I bid on this?). So that's been on my mind, as has the fact that he wort of reminds me of Alan Rickman (not as Snape, but my crush has finally transferred so that I have a little Snape crush going on too. Sad). So this dream . . . .

For some reason, it started with Handsome British Reasearcher (HBR) getting ready to fly to North Carolina (why, I have no idea. He works in England for his practice, and spends a lot of time in Denmark, where he teaches at the University of Aalborg). Anyway, I was to be ready with my questions so we could have our consultation before he left. Then I was at the summer camp that my children went to, with Bugle Boy helping me to look for a lost blanket/towel/sweater of a little girl. Her father was waiting. It turned out that she was missing (or had died) and her father just wanted this item she had lost. I think we found it, but I was tearing up and Bugle Boy asked if I was okay and I thanked him for helping, but didn't actually cry. And then I had to hurry to meet HBR, because he was picking me up in his green Range Rover so we could have the consult as he was driving to the airport. Alan Rickman/HBR picked me up and then we drove and drove and drove on these windy roads over gently rolling hills that climbed higher and higher and looked much more like New Zealand (as seen in Lord of the Rings) than England, or North Carolina. Weird, very weird.

I think it must have been the wine. And I am obviously very nervous about this phone consult, which may happen next Monday. Oh My God!