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"   When I get e-mails from Fabien, it feels like I&amp;#039;m hearing from an alternate world where the Champagne flows, knowledge of the French language is helpful and the people seem to be unaware that there&amp;#039;s a big recession going on. Oh, how I want to go there. My brother, Scott, wants to go there, too. In fact, he&amp;#039;s the one who introduced me to Fl\u00FBte, where Fabien is the Director of Operations. Described on its Facebook page as &amp;quot;the chic bar-lounge specializing in Champagne, with two locations in New York City and one in Paris,&amp;quot; Fl\u00FBte sounds to me like the antidote to suburban parenting. And sometimes, I need that. Scott told me about his one-and-only visit to Fl\u00FBte in downtown Manhattan, where he took a class on Champagne vs. sparkling wine. &amp;quot;They opened 10 bottles of bubbly and then educated us about them,&amp;quot; he recalled. I pictured a group of grown-ups in smudge-free, fine clothing, sitting in a room with mahogany walls and Parisian artwork, discussing the Champagne&amp;#039;s &amp;quot;bouquets&amp;quot; - as though somebody, somewhere hadn&amp;#039;t just lost their shin guards 20 minutes before game time. But that was a long time ago - or at least before the economy collapsed - and, though New York is just 30 miles from here, it seems so far away when it comes to visiting Fl\u00FBte. Sometimes, Scott and I talk about going there like people in old movies discuss Hollywood: &amp;quot;Someday we&amp;#039;ll get there,&amp;quot; we sigh. But getting there requires orchestration that neither of us is willing to attempt to undergo these days. For one thing, we&amp;#039;d have to brave rush hour, as neither one of us works in the city. And I&amp;#039;d have to get someone to take my kids to and from choir/soccer/piano/baseball until my husband gets home at dinnertime. &amp;quot;Doctor&amp;#039;s appointment?&amp;quot; the kindly, helpful neighbor would ask as my kids pile into her car and I gear up for my trip into the big city. &amp;quot;Er, no.Intro to Sparkling Wines of Australia and New Zealand,&amp;quot; I&amp;#039;d mumble, eyes averted. &amp;quot;Thanks for carting my kids around town!&amp;quot; Then there&amp;#039;s the cost - not just to get into the city and back - but the fees for the classes, if we take one, or simply the, what? Ten bucks a glass for the bubbly? In this economy, that seems hard to swallow, especially when we&amp;#039;re paying for choir/soccer/piano/baseball or whatever. But then Fabien went and e-mailed me again, this time while I was taking a break from chaperoning the fourth grade class trip at the Liberty Science Center, just across the river from Manhattan. I read it on my cell phone: &amp;quot;Don&amp;#039;t forget that today is Tuesday. That means Fl\u00FBte&amp;#039;s 2 for 1 Champagne Happy Hour from 5-8 pm!&amp;quot; I forgot for a moment that my fourth grade charges were taking turns standing in front of a giant blue plastic mouth, which &amp;quot;sneezed&amp;quot; on them every 20 seconds or so. Fabien&amp;#039;s e-mail went on: &amp;quot;Everything (including our delicious hors d&amp;#039;oeuvres, Champagne by the glass, by the bottle and our amazing Sparkling Cocktail menu) is buy one, get one free.&amp;quot;  Immediately, I forwarded it to Scott. Seconds later, I received Fabien&amp;#039;s e-mail again, this time forwarded from my brother, who had written, &amp;quot;Hey! Tuesdays are 2 for 1 night!&amp;quot; Oui, mon fr\u00E8re. Oui. Maybe this summer, when the kids are visiting their grandparents for the night, and Scott and I have stashed away some cash for a real treat, we&amp;#039;ll go to Fl\u00FBte. Until then, I&amp;#039;ll look forward to my e-mails from Fabien while I&amp;#039;m waiting for choir practice to let out. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a22179/the-antidote-to-suburban-paren/>