There's nothing like catching S completely unawares. The poor girl had
her mouth hung open long enough to consume a day's worth of protein
just from the bugs that entered! (Of course, she'd have a problem
with this because she would mourn the loss of all those bugs...she's
the sort that escorts bugs out of her house and gives them a little
cash to start a new home before sending them on their way. *wink*)
Anyways, when she arrived, the party for her was already in full
swing. We had consumed enough salad, sausage roll, fruit and cheese
appetizers to make us uncomfortable if we weren't sitting up straight,
done-in half the sherbet-champagne punch, and almost run out of
conversation. The party thrown by her soon-to-be-in-laws was in honor
of S's upcoming wedding, and was destined to be memorable, if only
because of the momentous amount of food (the main course included 7
large tins of Italian delicacies). There was a pedicure/manicure
station, a wine-tasting table, and scores of well-decorated tables
(with dragonflies for bug-loving S), all with a view of the ocean, as
we were a jump (literally) away from the beach. Thankfully, there was
drinking instead of guess-retarded-details-about-the-bride-to-be-games
and a stripper instead of um, er...actually the lack of any real
entertainment (like with other wedding showers I've been to). Yes, I
DID say a stripper...I'll get back to that. 'Course it was pretty
entertaining watching S wade through the tall pile of presents geared
at making her a homemaker. I had mine delivered by Noel, so as to add
another assurance of trust, beyond the obvious shape of the gift.
True-to-form, there was a book under the wrap. A cookbook to be more
precise. It was the bookmark that was the kicker (see photo). She
received the prescribed amount of kitchen appliances and tools,
candles, home-crotchet goods-destined never to leave the box, and
slinky underwear, i.e. buttfloss. Then policeman Giovanni showed up
because he'd heard S had been bad. He proceeded to flick his leather
belt in a whip-motion, handcuff S, take off his shirt, AND,
AND....that would be when the 3 year old and I took a walk. So much
for my first opportunity to see a stripper......We made it back for
the cake, cookies, and marshmallow salad though. I think I was in a
food-coma when I left, however, I was quite satisfied that S had been
thrown a party that sufficiently relished, embarrassed, and adored
her. Wishing you the best S and J.....
