Ready for a Shower

Wednesday night, as I was down to the wire expecting guests for a bridal shower that some church gals and I were hosting, I decided it would be a wonderful idea to make the beverage ahead time. Mind you, doing anything "ahead of time" is out of my party throwing character, as I am usually the last to arrive to any party I am hosting. The other helpers weren't there yet,  so I went ahead and made the "organic " lemonade in a pitcher, then put it into the punch bowl that my mother-in-law so graciously lent to me. 

I had previously asked the bride-to-be which sort of beverage she preferred, and it was raspberry lemonade. As I was making "organic" raspberry juice to add to the lemonade, I pulled off the plastic part that circles the top, yet it didn't quite do the job to open the can. I started murmmering about that darned "organic" juice, illogically thinking that the extra step to save the planet by buying an "organic" product must have made the container more difficult to open. Illogical conclusions aside, I knew full well that this fiddling was an accident waiting to happen. I gingerly maneuvered the top tin piece, hoping the lid would come off easily. Instead, as I pushed on the connecting part of the container, my false move was to push too hard to release the lid. A fountain of blood red juice flowed onto me, over me, behind me, and  below me, dripping off my clothes onto my shoes and onto the floor and cupboards. 

I was dripping and standing next to my towel drawer, but had to carefully reach for, and choose the towel I was willing to ruin. Yet, I had to act quickly because, I didn't want Evander to see his mother appearing as though she'd accidentally stabbed her innards using a knife the wrong way. 

I managed to do a cursory cleaning of myself before Van returned to the house, and was able to announce to him before he saw me, that I had covered myself in raspberry juice. 

Fortunately, I was wearing clothes I hadn't intended on wearing to the party. For documentational purposes, I kept wearing the evidence of said "organic" accident, as my friend Kris was to arrive shortly. 

She had asked yesterday if I was stressing about hosting the shower, I quickly poo-pooed the idea of being stressed, since I hadn't realized that, although I had casually been preparing for the shower, I truly hadn't grasped that I only had a few hours the next day to prepare my home for the onslaught of well wishers for the bride. 

I called her shortly before the shower, assuring the opposite of calm, and casually hinted for her to join me to ease my troubles. 

As I opened the door for Kris, the look on her face conveyed how frazzled my sweaty, tired, slightly sun burnt, juice soaked body appeared minutes before the shower. 

She was gracious enough to spot me by doing some dishes, adding lemons to the lemonade, and greeting the helpers and guest of honor, while I had my own private shower.