The shower

Storm clouds appeared to be piling up around Ottawa, but in the end it only spat with rain. The shower I meant wasn't of that sort, anyway. I've never attended one before, but Carol, whose son Andrew is going to marry Lillian next month, invited her friends to Lillian's bridal shower this afternoon, at Shiela's very attractive riverside house in Manotick.

Obviously, customs die hard; this was probably not unlike what would have happened in 19th century North America; how traditional the whole thing seemed! One of Carol's aunts sat at the head of the pretty table pouring the tea and coffee from elegant china pots, and we had a spread of little sandwiches, squares and cake to eat. Lillian's presents from her friends and relations were domestic: mixing bowls, cheese grater, lacy pillow cases and such. She was really appreciative—as pleased with her muffin tins as with her gift wrapped lingerie. After the unwrapping ceremony that we women of three generations sat around to watch, Lillian's sisters and friends dressed her up very prettily in the wrapping paper and ribbons and bows so that she looked like a gift herself, only she'd changed out of this "dress" by the time her fiancé came to collect her because it had turned out to be none too "breathable". He'll just have to be shown the photos.

I'm kicking myself for not taking my own camera along. Francine drove me with the other Francine and all the way there and back we listened to CDs of Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Junior. Today has felt to me like going a long way back in time!