Fresno Shower

I might have mentioned in one of the last few posts that I spent the weekend in Fresno, with Michelle's shower as a reason for two nights of chatting and wine drinking.

The shower itself was beautiful. Zona, Michelle's mother, outdid her self with an amazing sangria, lasagna that seriously threatened my dieting resolve and bread that was so yummy I could have eaten my weight in it.

Side note: The garlic bread was made with olive oil and dipping spices from We Olive, the Fresno franchise of which is owned by Zona and her husband Wayne. If ever I thought that the quality of olive oil made little to no difference when filled with herbs and baked into bread, Zona's bread proved me wrong. I could almost taste the sundrenched trees as the oil coated my mouth with it's earthy richness. Serious yumminess.

I was expecting the typical baby shower games. At this point in my life, I've gone to and/or thrown enough showers that I'm actually quite good at the games. Quick! Ask me to fill in the blank: Little Miss Muffet sat _____ _____ ______. No problems. The names of celebrity babies? Would you like them in birth order? I entered the game portion confident in my ability to win at least one candle or lotion set. Then they brought out the babies.

Little babies frozen in a block of ice, set in a little cup. The object of the game is simple. Melt the ice and "deliver" your baby. Simple and oh so frigid. We followed Mary Ann's example and held the ice cube in our hands. Do you know how long it takes a block of ice to melt. Entirely too long. My fingers ached, my hands experienced a burning numbness and I seriously began watching my fingers for signs of frostbite.

We followed it up with the nursery rhyme game and then a twist on the "if your plate has a number on the bottom, you win" game using adorable rubber duckies. And yes, I won the nursery rhyme game in a three-way tie for first place.

We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about babies and delivers and husbands and all those other things that women talk about when we get together. Michelle opened her gifts of teeny-tiny pants, minuscule socks and precious little shirts. We ooh-ed and ahh-ed in only the way mothers can, each of us remembering when our own baby - whether they are currently nine months or 30 years - was that small.

We left shower as the heavens decided to join us in showering Michelle with good wishes. The heavens just express said wishes in the form of raindrops.