Bridal Shower Hilarity

I was in Philadelphia this weekend for my little sister's bridal shower. Lauren is moving on up, guys. To a de-luxe apartment in the sky. No seriously, a 10th-story condo in the ritziest building in Philly. The Jeffersons only dreamed of such grandeur.

(You're all humming the song, aren't you? "Fish don't fry in the kitchen, beans don't burn on the grill, took a whole lot of tuh-ry-in', a-just to get up that hill...")

So the bridal shower. Lauren doesn't like to be the center of attention; in fact, when she has to be, she actually channels her alter ego, who is named Rhonda (sort of like Beyonce becomes Sasha Fierce, except imagine Beyonce without the talent or, you know, anything resembling rhythm). She refused to let my mom's friends give her a shower. She told her mother-in-law she didn't want a shower. The mother-in-law, whose name--I lie not--is Wenchie, decided to host one anyway.

So Lauren? A little peeved.

But Matt, the peacemaking fiance, assured her she would like it because the theme was Mexican food and margaritas. Our girl does like a good margarita. Or a bad one. Any margarita really, she's not terribly discriminatory.

We arrive at the shower, and it turns out the theme is not Mexican-n-margaritas. The theme is Ladies Who Lunch. There is a lot of pink everywhere, and food like curried chicken salad and brie, and not a bit of liquor in sight.

I know this because as I am making do with raspberry lemonade, Lauren is practically looking under the tablecloths for the margaritas. Alas, there were none. (This could be an issue in their marriage, based on what I saw the rest of the weekend, ie "Lauren, will you walk the dog?" "No, Matt, because you said there would be margaritas and there were no margaritas and I hate you.")

The rest of the time was spent watching Lauren fake enthusiasm over carving knives and serving trays, though by the end I feared she might commit hara kiri with one of the knives. Boy, it is wasted on a girl who is perfectly happy to eat pizza off of a paper towel.

However, the photos are cute, particularly the one of her wearing the hat made out of all the ribbons and bows from the packages. I like to call this photo "I'm smiling on the outside, but I'm slowly dying inside."

And here is a cute one of the two of us in our springy dresses, which I will take with me to Cape Town and admire all through the next two months of winter, because I am resigned to the fact that summer has disappeared from my life.