Bridal Shower Bat Outta Hell

Sunday I had a little adventure.

Woke up to the sun shining brightly at 10 AM. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept so late. This wasn’t so good because I woke up in Palmyra. Jim was still asleep beside me. The night before, we’d gone over to my cousin Amber’s house and hung out playing Outburst and talking about our crazy family until late and Jim and I didn’t get home until almost three in the morning. They have the fattest, nicest cat I’ve ever seen. His name is Buford and he is fab. I wasn’t allergic to him until I was leaving and I scratched my eye and my eyeball proceeded to turn the rosiest of reds. This cat was so round, he was almost like sitting next to the girth of a small child. I always get so excited around other people’s animals and can’t wait to have my own!!

Anyway, so I woke up. I went out and visited with my parents and thanked them for being quiet and letting us sleep. Typically my mom is doing something ridiculous like vaccuming at 5 AM (true story) but they behaved. It was almost 10:30 and Jim and I had to take the two hour trek to St. Louis because I had to be at a wedding shower at 2.

This would have been easy, except I was thinking I was Martha Stewart and wanted to make Sasha a homemade gift. But it wasn’t done. And I desperately needed a shower. So Jim and I jet back to STL, we get home, and he helps me work on her gift (a personalized recipe book). I get naked and step into the shower only to find out that we have NO HOT WATER. I let it run for awhile. Still nothing. It’s past 1 PM now and I have to get going. I say “F that” to taking a cold shower. Jim calls his dad and tinkers with the utility closet for awhile. I quickly finish Sasha’s gift in the nick of time. I style my hair and pray no one sees that it’s a little dirty. Slip on a peasant skirt and I’m about ready to go. Jim has realized that the pilot has gone out in our hot water heater, so no hot water until at least the next day. Grrrrrreat.

Before the debaucle with the hot water heater, Jim was nice enough to Google map the directions to the wedding shower for me and print them out as he was slipping the personalized recipe pages in the decorated notebook. Poor man. I was pissed because the zip code for the place was only three digits from mine, but Google said that it was up about 30 minutes away… Much like the Gospel, I believe Google and trust it, so I drove like a bat out of hell to North County.

Earlier in the week, I’d supplied directions to Andrea, and I received a call from her when I was getting off the highway. She was lost and parked in the church where Jim and I got married. She’d tried to ask a guy in the church parking lot for directions, but, as Andrea’s luck would have it, she stopped at the only Spanish-speaking church in the NoCo area and the guy was just like, “Que? No, no…” She’d driven around in circles, so she asked if she could follow me or ride with me to the shower.

I picked Andrea up and by that time, I had Jim on the phone with me because I was getting confused about which direction was north or south. Finally, we found the street that we were supposed to turn on and it led us into the strangest neighborhood I’ve ever seen. The invitation said the party was on 9—- Huntington, I thought. All the houses were marked in the 7000s. There were no 9000s! Plus, there were really short blocks and then there were these divisions in the roadways and strange circle turns and loopdy loops and I thought I was in some bad fairytale labyrinth – I never knew such a place existed in North County.

Finally, we saw a man out doing some yardwork and we rolled down the window and asked him if he knew the address. He thought for a second, and said that we were in the wrong area of town. That the address didn’t sound like an address in that town.

I told this to Jim, who was still on the phone with us, and he went to Mapquest and typed in the directions. They came out completely different – this time, about ten minutes away from where I live.

WTF.

If Andrea and I were two rats let loose in a maze to find cheese, the cheese would spoil before either of us got to it. Pro

By this time, it was almost 2:30 and the shower had started at 2. I felt like the biggest douchebag. I knew it was going to take us at least 30 minutes to get down the highway and down South. I dropped Andrea back off at the church to get her car, we waved at the Spanish people, and we were off. Sort of.

The people driving down the main street were going at true Sunday afternoon pace. I swear. There was one old dirty truck in front of me that stopped like he was going to make a left turn in the middle of the road three separate times. The fourth time, he actually made the turn. Andrea said she was laughing at me throwing up my hands at him.

So, we get on the highway and I’m trying to be conscious that Andrea doesn’t know where she’s going but I have J.I.M, my navigational system guiding me once we get off the highway. I pass about a million cars regardless and I’m sure I left Andrea wanting to pull her hair out, but I was trying to get us there. I didn’t know this at the time, but Sasha was calling Andrea about every ten minutes saying, “how much longer?” and each time Andrea would say “About ten minutes” because she had no idea where she was or how much longer. I think that’s hilarious. Pretty sure Sasha called 3-4 times as we were driving south.

Thirty minutes later, we get off the highway. I zip through the small streets and almost miss the turn. The street name is actually “HuntingDon Lane” and it would have been nice if the invite made it clear that A) it was a Lane and B) it was spelled ridiculously, with a D instead of a T. Seriously, who does that?

But, we made the turn. We got there. We find Sasha standing in the yard and to our surprise, they waited on us! I’m so embarassed. We walk into this tiny living room full of beautiful, coordinated looking women. Andrea and I are out of breath, sweaty, and trying to hold our gifts and purses and still look fabulous at the same time. It was difficult, but I think we pulled it off.

They give us some food and the papers for the games and we walk back into the living room. There’s three open chairs. One of them is in the corner, out of the way. The other two are really tall barstools – taller than any other chairs in the room and they remind me of the way a king and queen would be sitting high atop a throne. Andrea asked if anyone was sitting in the corner – and the women said Sasha was – but we could sit in the tall, somewhat uncomfortable chairs. These chairs were really close to Sasha and I think my floofy peasant skirt and hairy foot was probably in every picture that people took.

Andrea and I tried our best to eat and fill out the answers to quiz. It turns out, the two bastards who were late (us) actually won the first game and got two prizes, . Sitting across from us was who I like to jokingly call, “The Russian Triad” because Sasha’s soon-to-be in-laws are very Russian, but very interesting. Sasha’s MIL is just about as cut and dry as she is. She’s very tall, with large endowments, and she has a thick accent to go along with everything she says. It turns out that they have never been to a shower before. I love that they were dressed in black. They made it an interesting party. Sasha’s mother, who flew in from Germany, was also there. She has also never been to a wedding shower. Both she and the Russian Triad said that they had never been to a wedding shower. Apparently, over in Europe (and Eastern Europe) they’re more superstitious. You don’t have a shower before the wedding, or a shower before a baby comes. In Russia, it even goes so far that you are not supposed to take your newborn baby out of the house for 40 days – only family can come see them. In Germany, you don’t tell people happy birthday before their actual birthday so as not to jinx them. So, all the bow-saving and ohs and aws and silly quizzes were new to them.

It was a good time. I tried to stop fidgeting and being awkward and relax. Andrea and I enjoyed listening to the banter between Sasha and her future MIL regarding a four-slot toaster (Sasha preferred the two slot) and some fragile margarita glasses (Sasha preferred the new ones she got from her MIL’s sister.)

Andrea and I helped the Russian Triad take the gifts to the car and after we said our goodbyes (and apoligies) to Sasha, we came back to my place to have a beer. And that was the perfect ending to such an adventuresome day.