Crazy Old Bags.

Saturday will hold some challenges. Namely my step-grandma. As designated wedding organizer (really involves making lists, assigning tasks and some handholding), I’m supposed to go with my 21-year old aunt and my step-grandma to start getting flower ideas. There have already been two anxiety attacks just in planning the outing. One because my step-grandma’s (SG) house was designated for the meeting place. That’s it. Her apartment is the most central location, so my aunt decided it would be easiest to meet there. When I relayed this to SG, there was a full minute of silence. Followed by defensive questions, followed by a brief sobbing jag. Jesus. Tomorrow is going to kill me. She only let it go when I finally said, we won’t go inside, we’ll just meet out front. (Yeah, because you know what two pregnant ladies should be doing? Oh yeah, waiting around in 90 degree heat. Fucking awesome).

The next anxiety attack occurred over the length of the bridesmaid dresses in relation to the formality of the wedding dress. I’m a strong believer in “Who gives a shit if everything matches. It’s a wedding, let the couple do what they want and everyone will have fun!” But apparently, because the bridesmaid dresses are NOT floor length, SG thinks they are too casual to jive with the formal wedding dress. It took five minutes of me explaining that shorter bridesmaid dresses are more fashionable now. And that no one equates length with relative formality anymore.

So, if THESE are the big issues that have my SG freaking out, four weeks before the wedding, how are we going to get her through the week before? My answer: tranquilizer darts. It may be the only way.

Too bad I’m involved in all this while gestating. Because a big, tall, frosty Captain and Coke sounds like it would really hit the spot right now. And every day I deal with crazy people and weddings. Everyone remember the drinking binge I went on prior to the Coley-Xtian Wedding Extravagantastica last year? Because I do. And that was my own wedding where pretty much everyone involved was bending over backwards to be accommodating, supportive and helpful. I can’t imagine how my poor aunt deals with the ball of nutjob that is her mother.

So, this wedding may be the greatest shitshow ever, or it might just turn out nicely in spite of the old bag.


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Oh, and for those loving on my crazy MIL stories, the avalanche of mail has begun anew. I think impending Mocha Cub has her fearing for our souls. In the mail, we got photocopied church-type flyers AND the monthly 7th Day Adventist Bible workbook. I've never seen anything like it. I don't even know how to describe it. Xtian wouldn't let me take pictures of it, so I'm sorry that would have been fun. (Luckily, I doubt that's the last time we'll be seeing that!) I tried to compromise by shredding the 150 page booklet into ribbons and sending it back to her, but Xtian lost his nerve on that one too. I even offered him $5 to mail it back like that, which he considered. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Damn. That would have made for some AMAZING stories, I'm sure.