The road not taken. It makes all the difference.

I don't know how I made it anywhere before GPS was invented. For Galpal and Beau's wedding shower yesterday all I had to do was type in the address of the restaurant and go. Scratch that. I had to type in the address, fill the gas tank (BECAUSE MY HUSBAND NEGLECTED TO TELL ME IT WAS ON EMPTY) and then go. Aside from two instances of the damned suction cup holding the unit coming off the windshield, causing me to curse creatively, weaving across three lanes of expressway traffic while I stuck the thing back in place, it was pretty reliable. Only once did it steer me wrong. And, to be honest, that one time may not have been the fault of the GPS.

My reputation for getting lost precedes me. I have no sense of direction, despite the digital compass in my car. I've been known to drive far out of my way – usually in the opposite direction - not realizing it until it's taken me twice the estimated time to find something. Even then I keep telling myself, "It's probably on the next block …" until I cross state lines or have to show a passport.

Once I did find the restaurant I breathed a sigh of relief. The overwhelming smell of garlic was mouth-watering, plus I knew there was the strong potential for cake. And the diet (see tomorrow's post for a full account of that -  more than anyone will want to know)? Well, I balanced it out with a pre-shower workout and not eating dinner that evening. A girl must have her priorities, and mine consist of pasta and knee-buckling cake. I'm a cheap date.

I restrained myself from taking my camera, so I have no blackmail material nothing to show you. Too bad I didn't remember I have a camera on my cell phone. This suggests I wouldn't make a very good spy, and not just because I can't find anything to save my life. If I were sent to Russia I'd probably wind up in Australia, where I'd spend days wondering why Russian sounded so similar to English, and if Steve Irwin hadn't really come from Moscow. Then I'd be convinced I should have traveled that extra block.

Galpal and Beau received some wonderful gifts, ensuring their condo will be the place to par-tay. As they were unwrapping I heard someone say, "I'm so jealous of all their new stuff!" But frankly? You couldn't pay me to go through the wedding planning process and execution again. Even a government bailout wouldn't be enough, though if I called myself a bank and asked Geithner for some money I know he'd give it. What are a few more billions between friends? They can always print more. Who needs a gold standard? Pshaw!

Defying my usual bad luck I won a cool prize at the shower - a vat of Jelly Bellies (translation for those outside the country: jelly bean candies in an array of flavors ranging from coffee to blueberry, buttered popcorn to jalapeno). My children now believe I walk on water.

What Galpal didn't want me to blog about was the last game of the shower. Basically, one of her bridal party wrote down things Galpal said during the gift opening process, saying these were the things she'd say on her wedding night. I'll honor her wish and not tell you the following phrases:

You aren't allowed to play with that.

I can't find the end of it.

I'm working my way to the bottom.

Hello, there!

Is that all?

Thank you.

Memory fails me on the rest of the phrases, which were all equally classic, but at least I got through  a few of the things I mustn't tell you, under any circumstances. No amount of persuading cannot convince me!

Another reason I'd suck as a spy.

Counting getting my two homework assignments done and submitted, all in all it was a good – if busy – weekend. That is, aside from hearing my children drone on and on about having to watch such an "old movie" as Ghost Busters, which was Saturday night's entertainment. Next time they start ripping into us about the cheesy special effects defining film entertainment in the 80s, I'll remind them who brought them the equivalent of their own weight in candy.

Then I'll blame their father for the film choice.

3 thoughts on “The road not taken. It makes all the difference.

  1. If Galpal’s going to say ‘Thank you’ on her wedding night Beau has a lot to live up to…
    As for spying in Russia – you’ll be pleased to know that Russian sounds much more like English than Australian does!

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  2. Thank you for not posting those comments from the last event at the shower! I really appreciate your not embarrassing me any further. Oh and thanks for not remembering “oh wow it’s gorgeous” or “I thought you’d enjoy that” or “Don’t torment the cat” or “getting into it is half the fun” or “is that everything”. I am truly relieved you didn’t write any of those down. That’d be embarrassing!

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