Last week, at a fundraising event, I was introduced as a sommelier. Afterward, I needed to clarify for one very confused guest, that a sommelier is not a native of a tiny nation located on the Horn of Africa.

I grew up a tomboy in a neighborhood full of boys, four of whom were my brothers. I memorized sports statistics, played some outfield, and wore my bruised shins with pride. But the one thing I would never do was spit.