a FUNdraiser, it turns out, and by the way, I do feel like Michael Scott saying that

So we've just returned from a fundraising event for Levi's and Lilah's (and what used to be Ezra's) preschool. We never go to fundraising events, mainly because we're really greedy and hate supporting worthy causes, but also because my husband is not a doctor and I'm not that type of boisterous, bejeweled wife who is a regular at those fundraising events we never go to but somehow know everything about.

But someone offered us a ticket, so we only had to pay for one "head," and since I turned 40, I'm all about paying my preconceived notions no mind. So we decided to go. And before we knew it, we were rubbing elbows with doctors and boisterous, bejeweled wives.

It was fun, actually. We got a tiny bit dressed up and our kids were elsewhere and we smooched a little bit at the bar. I do wish I had had an appetite then, when there was pan-seared, thinly sliced tuna to be had, and not now, as I finish off the kids' Spiderman and Dora Valentine's chocolates. But you can't have everything.

Anyway, there was a silent auction, and unbeknownst to me, Stupid Daddy did some bidding. Thanks to his efforts, we are now the proud owners of this:


Yes, that's right, the fancy margarita mix and the two glasses, and I know you are totally jealous over how hooked up we are. But maybe we'll host a fundraiser of our own. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be invited.