The mid-winter doldrums proved anything but dull. Mother Nature threw her considerable weight around and dumped record breaking amounts of snow through out January and February, just to keep us guessing. And shoveling.
It was just after one such snow fall that J. and I got some good news. We were sitting at his mom's table looking at jewelry she'd gotten out to consider wearing with the dress she'd bought for the Big Day. I was trying on all the baubles, a favorite past time of mine. She mentioned that she might wear the ring I had on to the shower.
The Shower. It amazes me that the tradition that is universally loathed, even by brides, has survived as long as it has. Ginger ale and sherbet punch, salad sopped in French dressing, and everyone passing around toasters and gravy boats oooohing and aaaahhhing like they were so many rare Egyptian artifacts. You'd think survival of the fittest would have taken care of that ritual.
She showed me the invitation and explained the clever little ploy to get Em there unwittingly (Is anyone, even the most dim-witted bride ever surprised by these things?)
Then in a fit of chuckling she disclosed (snort, snort) that the bridesmaids had addressed my invitation to my married name. (Oh stop! My sides ache from laughing! No really, stop!) And then, evidently even funnier still, was that J.'S EX-WIFE'S INVITATION WAS ADDRESSED TO HER MARRIED NAME, TOO! (I can not express what a gas this truly is!)
I looked at J. incredulously and hee-hee-heed along with his mother momentarily before getting down to business.
"Sandy has been invited?" I asked as steadily as I could.
Well silly me, sure she has! She should be at the wedding to see the girls in their bridesmaid dresses! (Ever hear of a camera?) So she had to be invited---and therefore invited to the shower, too. (Em clearly misread the playbook on this subject...)
My mind scrambled to regain its horizontal hold.
"Shall I tell them you'll come?" she asked, wiping tears of hilarity from her cheeks.
"Suuuuurrrre," I said slowly, struggling mightily with two competing thoughts.
The first: Sandy was invited?
Then I'd have to go looking fabulous in my very uptown sleeveless Brooks Brothers LBD. Better start the pushups tonight.
The second: OMG SANDY WAS INVITED!!!!
Clearly the pool of potential wedding guests had broadened if they'd opened their hearts wide enough to include the very person who would not rest until J.'s life was hacked completely to collops. Perhaps they'd invited Sheila's colorist. Chuck's little league coach. J.'s mom's chiropodist. Surely the list would now include my children.
How could it not?
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