Photo courtesy of Katy
I wished it to rain all week.
There had been rumblings on some days, low cloud coverings on others, but as of Saturday there had been no sustained wet droppings from the flirty skies. It was hot and humidity sucked in through my swamp cooler and spread throughout the house. It felt like I was living in a fish tank breathing in and out water vapor. I couldn't even finish my multi-grain cereal before it was enveloped in sogginess.
When Wendy showed up she looked sporty. Dressed in a ski-girl t-shirt ("black diamonds are a girl's best friend") and jeans that fit her body well. I packed The Chief into the stroller and said good bye to Chup as he attempted a serviceable gesture: mow the neighbor's lawn.
Wendy and I walked to the park and she kindly debriefed me on her latest adventures. Intrigued by her stories, I accidentally walked to the wrong pavilion and barely survived the ugly looks from family reunion hello-my-name-is-sticker-wearing attendees. Good thing we weren't the long lost cousins of that crew.
Katy was in fine birthday form. I liked her cargo shorts matched with a purple t-shirt. I like cargo with anything besides cargo because one can get disappear if one is not careful.
First of all I chatted with brilliant Ann Dee about her forth-coming books. Then Millie to congratulate her on the success of her husband's pizzeria. Next up was Amber who, as it turns out, did so well with her set of triplets that God went easy on her and only sent twins with this current pregnancy.
Amber was eating a lovely croissant sandwich in a baggy, leaving me to believe that while she has five children, and is gestating two, she finds the time to home make the family's picnic dinner. No cold slaw and biscuits at KFC?
We started talking about babies and thumbsucking at which point I had to stop her to exclaim,
"Are we really at a park talking about our children?" Because when did we ever get out of her convertible bug, trolling for boys at Movies 8? How did we get from there to here?
Then the skies decided to lease a little rain, and so the kids on the slip-and-slide came to their relief under the canopy. We sang Happy Birthday to Katy and Ann Dee tried to get her to sing a begone solo from the Dixon Spectacular. But she wouldn't (which intensely disappointed us all).
Wendy and I have been to so many parties together over the extent of our lifetimes that we can feel eachother's social threshold. Whether she felt mine, or I felt hers, we both looked to Katy to bid farewell. Pictures were taken, The Chief--who had steadfastly held on to the Duffy cd Chup made for Katy--bestowed his gift to her, and a couple semi-final hugs sent us on our way.
Lindy was also leaving the party and as she is now my kindred neighbor and recent birther of a boy we pushed our strollers through the green of the park as Wendy wrestled with her older boy up ahead. We talked about the saga of appreciating the postpartum body and I apologized that I am a (very) lazy mid-morning walking companion. Also in discussion: the upcoming classes she is teaching at BYU and the importance of a fabulous wardrobe as it pertains to college students. Tricky, we know.
We said good bye to Lindy and her boys at the intersection where our roads meet. That is when the sky decided to purge. Lucky for The Chief, he was nested away in his water proof buggy, but Wendy and I pushed along as the torrential rains shot down all around us. It was so intense that we had no choice but to laugh at our plight.
So we laughed all the way home.
And there was Chup, ready to get in his car for our expedient rescue. Instead he just smiled at the sight of us, glad to see that his son was safe and dry (and perhaps equally as glad to see two girls with wet t-shirts?) in his driveway.
Wendy had to leave. So we hugged sopping wet hugs and I told her to save those jeans for her next date. Chup agreed.
Then I took my boys inside where--after I changed into dry pajamas and toweled down my curly hair--we snuggled to the sound of the Olympic golds at the Water Cube.
Bon Voyage Katy!