Sometimes you just have to say “Fuck it!”

I just did. And it feels fabulous.

I was given the opportunity to fly to Las Vegas this weekend. Hotel is already covered, I just have to get my butt down there.

I sat on the fence for 45 minutes doing the normal second guessing game. “No, I really shouldn’t.” “I don’t really have the extra money with Christmas around the corner.” “I really should stay at home and do chores that I’ve been putting off.” “No, it’s too last minute.”

“Stop that!”, said my crazy side.

So I booked the trip.

And here’s how I justified it. Who wants to die having passed up fun times with few hundred or thousand dollars in their pocket? Not me. I’d rather die breaking even and having a blast up until then.

Of course, this is under the assumption that I have Elle (my 10 year old daughter) financially covered in the event of my premature passing. And I do. So there, I am responsible!

I’ll share my adventures with you upon my return. xo

This Wino Wednesday post was inspired by free chardonnay in Bellagio in Las Vegas. It was delicious. And free.

When I’m in Vegas I often say, “You aren’t allowed to use the terms woulda, coulda, shoulda because they are all filled with regret.”

I must say…I love Vegas. I love to gamble. I love free drinks. I love time at the pool. I love people watching. But that’s it. Therefore it is not a destination that is great to go, say when I’m married. Or at least it wasn’t back when I was married. We (husband and I, before we were exes) went once. It was a disaster.

So here’s the story. I gambled all day. Husband was attending a chef show thingy all day. Again, I was gambling all day and they serve a damn fine house wine at the Bellagio. Trust me on this one. It’s lovely.

I sat in the same exact chair all day long. I sat there through a zillion shift changes. I was doing okay gambling. Not winning big. Not losing either. Just staying even.

Hours later husband came back from conference thingy. He reminded me of our dinner reservations. He planned our entire trip around this dinner. It was a like a 15 course meal and every critic raved about every fucking course. My response to the husband, “I’m doing really well. It’ll only take me a few minutes to freshen up so I’ll meet you at the restaurant at our reservation time.” (<~ big mistake) Anyhow he went up to the room to get ready.

Time passed and I finally peeled myself away from gambling, ran up to the room to change and then raced to the restaurant. Probably forgetting panties…mostly because I was rushed and also I needed a diversion tactic for husband. These tactics don’t always work. Anyhow I got there before out table was ready. He was in the bar. I joined him, for yet ANOTHER drink. (Remember I was drinking chardonnay all day long). This time I indulged with a martini.

Finally we are seated. We get through a few courses and I realize something very important. I’m tired. Exhausted really. So I tip my head and take a cute little nap. Really though, I was sitting up the whole time. I just closed my eyes. But I also missed a few courses.

Finally I opened my eyes. I yawned and stretched. And I quickly realized husband wasn’t thrilled with dining alone. Or with me. I was in trouble. Big trouble.

We came back to the hotel room after dinner. Husband got into bed. I was no longer tired. Naps at dinner help.

As I glanced over at husband in bed I also noticed the clock. It said….11:11. It was a sign. So I bolted. Said I had to go gamble. Figured I was already “in trouble”. He was ready for bed. And I left the room.

In the casino I felt free. All alone I had a blast. And I won. BIG. HUGE. On the blackjack table.

The rest of the weekend was silent. I didn’t care. I gave him money for my portion of the fancy dinner. Hell it was only a fraction of my winnings.

Turns out…husband was pissed. Really pissed. So much so, it came up in counseling months later. And now we’re divorced. Not because of the Vegas disaster. But that trip didn’t help.

However what I did learn was that 11:11 is my good luck time. And that I should never marry a man who doesn’t gamble.

Wino Wednesday…this weekly feature is designed to share my wine alcohol related stories.