The funniest blog on the face of the planet. Usually.
Monday, April 26, 2010
I'm co-hosting a bridal shower this Sunday for a dear friend's daughter. It's been a lot of fun planning the menu (sushi and quiche, in keeping with an international theme), the favors (Joyce, did I have favors in 1980?) and the flowers (Anyone know if hydrangea are in season yet?).
At the risk of sounding like a "Get Off My Lawn" kind of gal, I was a bit miffed that we hadn't heard from a couple of people on the guest list. Gosh, how hard is it to pick up the phone and call? How can one plan on the proper number of wrapped eels? How many quarts of pear sorbet are enough for parfaits? More importantly, how much champagne will be needed for the Mimosas? (Okay, that was a trick question. One can never have too much champagne, but you get my drift.)
As we sat down to dinner early last week with our golfing friends, I was about to start pontificating about the tardy non-RSVPers when my friend Betsy leaned in and whispered, "So, will you be joining us for Stacia's baby shower this Saturday?"