Life in the Slow Lane

I received an email which included the following sentence: I am making kind request to you my friends, relatives, aliens and all well wishers. It has a very nice ring to it. Maybe that is how I should have prefaced my wedding invitations.

Most of the gifts I am writing thank you notes are things that either SOS or I chose to put on our registry. But interspersed among them all are the occasional "I thought of you when I saw this because it just looked like something you would like." And friends, that is a very, very, very disturbing thought at times. No further comment.

(The official word is that this is me writing a thank you note. I would appreciate all of your vows of secrecy.) But when you have just been through the third bridal shower in as many days, and with two additional showers in recent memory, there comes a time when you must stop and blog about it, regardless of exactly how many thank you notes are waiting to be written. And, for the sake of all of my dear loyal readers who have survived far too long without a post of some sort, I write. First, I would like to enter a new malady into the great big book of syndromes: Shower Thumbs. This is what happens when you tear open the wrapping on packages. It is akin to multiple paper cuts, but easier to survive because of the fun of tearing into brightly wrapped gifts. Second, I would like to mention some of the most interesting gifts SOS and I received. Of course, the gift that takes the "weirdest-what-on-earth-are-we-going-to-do-with-it?" prize is the XXXXXL (yes, that is 5XL) T-shirt...

The email I received the other day started like this: Now that the dust has settled from your shower on Sunday, I was wondering if... I think I may have burst out into hysterical laughter, but I don't remember. I'm not sure how someone can be under the impression that the bride will have more time after her first shower. This morning I woke up from a nightmare where two people were chasing me down to kill me and I was running from place to place asking everyone if they could tell me when and where my next shower was because I didn't want to miss it. Because, of course, making it to your own bridal shower on time is just that important. I think I've reached that point where I'm misplacing important information in some corner or another of my mind and room. Both are equally cluttered at this stage. I'm not even sure I can find the surface the dust was supposedly to have settled on, but if I do find some, I have more showers approaching to take care of it.