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2002-04-30 - 5:58 p.m. You, you are done with the balloons Gina? Yes, Wendy. You will not believe this.... So I stop at the Giant, because I said I'd get the balloons for tomorrow because they have a lovely Bubbles shaped balloon. And, and, they're out. They have Buttercup, Blossom, but no Bubbles. That's not good. In fact, they were low on all balloons, and I just don't think, black, orange, or that clear condom color are very bridal/Gen No, no, we don't want that But the florist was great. We went through all her back room boxes and I managed to fine 9 balloons in a reasonable color scheme, but no Bubbles. You know, it's really hard to describe Bubbles to non-PPG fans. Blonde, pigtails, blue dress - they kept bringing me Angela of the Rugrats ballons. That's no good. Anyway, the florist calls every Giant within a ten mile radius, spends about twenty minutes on the phone while I finish grocery shopping. Finally, we discover the Giant five miles away have a Bubbles balloon. Cool Ah, but that would be too easy. They have no helium. Oh no So I'd have to drive there, buy it, come back and pay them to blow it up. Arrgghhh. Gina, still on her ocean of calm because her house is clean and she has a grocery list says You are done with balloons. Go home to your safe house and cook. Mel and I will deal with the balloons Safe as houses. hee hee You, you are done with the balloons. Be calm. Go home. Cook. It's a pretty day. Sunshine, on my shoulder... I croon I'm hanging up on you now. ...makes me happy. Bye, Wendy Friday afternoon was spent cooking food for Gen's bridal shower. Quiche, cake, and my mom's chicken salad. A rite of passage, making your mother's chicken salad. Especially when the recipe is a verbal reconstruction of my grandmother's method Take a mason jar and ... It took two phone calls to my mother, and a deep discussion of how the variation in regional pickles made me need to add more sugar to the mason jar of dressing, but it came out splendidly. I miss my grandmother. She taught me to climb trees, kill snakes and pick blackberries. I fed the triumphant chicken salad to an approving Thjora when she arrived after a four hour drive from Richmond. It had been a helluva a week and cooking is tiring, so I was fairly beat when the phone rings. Bubbles is one the other end, proposing to bring me ribs from Red, Hot and Blue. I love Bubbles. But I'm tired and cranky. I decide I need a hot shower to improve my disposition when the phone rings again. Mel says Where all did you try to find the Bubbles balloon? Ah, the quest continues. Okay, cause we're not having any luck. And describing Bubbles is hard, isn't it? Oh, yes. We're going to try the next party store. I tumble out of the lovely shower to find Bera, Lan and Gen have arrived. Bera, I had forgotten how much I miss Bera. And I hate her because she looks good in orange. Eventually, the Bera and the Gen venture forth for take out. I mix up the second cake, the strains of Pacabel filling the silent house, while Alan attempts to puddle Thjora with a good shoulder rub. The food valkyries return before we succumb to sleep, bringing BBQ goodness. Rib bones fly around my kitchen table, interrupted only by a call from Mel informing me they've given up on the damn balloon and she is one with Gina's couch. I laugh as I assemble the last cake, watched by a fascinating audience as I roll the chocolate slab into a ho-ho. Yawn, Saturday morning comes too early. But I'm really looking forward to Gen's shower. Gina, Bera, Mel and I have been scheming for weeks. Still, I envy the sleeping Roland his Y chromosone as I get up early enough to take the food to Gina's house. The morning passes as Mel and Gina assemble trays of lunch food. Lauren teaches me how out of touch I am with the current music scene as MTV-X plays in the background. I pin a lace veil to the Bubbles doll centerpiece which proclaims "Hi, I'm Bubbles!" and "Awwww, it's sooooo cute!" when you squeeze it. Mel puts the "Back off or I'll pulverize you" Bubbles toy /proximity alarm near the gift table where it threatens all who pass by. Mel eyes the wrapped gifts and discerns we'd gotten Gen the exact same thing. Roland went shopping Friday night while I was cooking, buying me time to eat dinner with the impromptu supper guests. Which means he and Mel, those twins who share a brain with Gen, were shopping at the same time. Cosmic, but inevitable that they choose the same gift. With the food arranged and the boys banished to helping Alan herd fish (ask Shane about Alan's swim), the guests arrive and (WOOT!) partying commences. We gossip, we eat, we do *not* play stupid shower games. We did amuse ourselves reading the RSVP cards during the cake and sugar fest. Each guest was asked to write down 'Secrets for a good marriage', which was cool since several of her relatives that couldn't attend wrote nice notes for Gen. Everyone gave such profound advice, I felt silly telling Gen my prosiac suggestion was separate sinks in the bathroom. The funniest bit was from Gen's sister, Jodi, who phoned before the shower started. I looked up from making salad to find Gina taking three pages of notes about what Jodi wanted to tell Gen during her shower. All the while, Clint, (Gen's brother in law that I cannot wait to meet), provided editorial commentary from Jodi's end of the phone. Laugh at your spouse? You mean like this? and proceeds to mock his wife with booming laughter. He appends Jodi's thoughts with Piece of advice #5, Jodi is always late! There is lovely loot for Gen and happy companionship for all. We lie around the floor learning from Laura how to own a man's soul (drink more, Laura). We trick little Katie into leaving the room and give Laura more wine. I think Mel took a nap somewhere in the middle of the afternoon. Around tea-time, we bust out the wine to try some of the varieties Gen's considering for the reception. Drinking inevitably leads to more food and we polish off THAT Heavenly Ham Bera had brought. Sometime around 7, we finally broke up the party. Little Katie joyfully helped us bust the balloons (except for the pink one I got stuck in the foyer ceiling. Come back over the railing, Bera, it's not worth it.) for cleanup. I went home, happy but beat, and slept like a rock. Sunday? We head to Silver Dinner to snag a table - 40 minute wait while Roland and I poured over the travel guides for possible European vacations this year. I love my in-laws and their time shares. Bera, G&A arrive just as we're seated in this bizarre ovaliod booth thingy. After seeing Bera safely on her way, it was home to collapse. My short nap turned into a three hour snooze, followed by a viewing of The Scorpion King. Can we say historical romance novel? At least three times I leaned over to Roland laughing about the overly dramatic Fabio like poses. Slender heroine in torn rags burrows against the hero, kissing the shallow cut across the chest. They stand framed in a post-battle moment against the windswept darkness, a full moon over his shoulder, one strong arm around the heroine, the other clutching his bow. It's only Tuesday, but I still feel tired from too much fun. I sigh longingly, looking at my sewing room, but I know I have bills to pay and MoL paperwork to complete. Yet another week will pass with no time for my hobbies. Forlorn is me. But this weekend is a trip to Georgia and fun with John and Anne. I dreamed last night Laura drove Gen and I through the airport, racing to catch our plane. Screech. Who knew the Miata could maneuver like that? I blame Shane and that violent video game, Grand Theft Auto III (?) Luned, I have no clue what the Snoopy boogie is. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �