Making a Little Cheese with My Whine

I’ve always loved school.

Well, let me clarify that a bit. I’ve always loved learning.

My high school records will show you that I skipped class 17 out of 52 days in grade 10 math and I pulled off a solid B. Why did I skip? Because I could, I suppose.

But in the years since, I’ve taken many different classes and courses, both online and in person. Some I have finished, others I’ve jumped in all gung-ho and fizzled out before the end.

It seems every year, come September, I feel the pull again to go to school. For what, I dunno. I have no intention of launching a career at this stage of the game. I am retired. And grateful to be.

But this year was no different. I committed to two online art courses, a bible study and writing seminar.

And then today.

Today, as I innocently lay in bed drinking my morning coffee perusing emails and support groups for said classes, an ad scrolls across my social media feed: Cheese School. Cheese School! Who knew there was such a thing. Right here in my town.

I did a brief check-in with my hubby, then faster than you could say, “Charcuterie,” my Visa went cha-ching!

And I am enrolled in Cheese School.

Now maybe I will be motivated to delve into the Wine Tasting course (That never expires, thank goodness) that I registered for three years ago in September when I felt the pull of school.