Another Can of Worms, Please

So, I was talking to my mother again on the phone over the weekend.

She has not only gotten to be close friends with the word gay - example, she is now able to say, without missing a beat, "You remember, Paula O'Malley has a gay uncle and he got married," whereas the Old Her would have said something like, "Well...you know, Paula O'Malley's uncle is a....uh....had a .....uh....special...celebration...and, uh....." - but she is now slowly starting to show unsettling signs of Extreme Participation. As in, "You remember, Paula O'Malley has a gay uncle and he got married....and she says you can count her in for the wedding!!"

So now Pat Kelley and Paula O'Malley and Aunt Mary are all in, and by default this will require all the other ladies from the Wollaston Golf Club lunch bunch (with whom I spent my formative years eating Saltines in a high chair while they ate their turkey clubs and drank their chablis and broke out the latest gossip from the Back Nine)...plus their husbands....plus my mom's friends from Westwood, where I grew up, plus their husbands, plus my mom's other friends and their husbands, plus plus plus....

And I think she's still keen on going with M. and I to look at places on the Cape in a couple of weeks....

Which leads me to the only reasonable conclusion I can possibly reach, which is that I am well on my way to having a real, live Mother of the Bride.

I really, really need to be careful what I ask for.

But honestly? It feeds into all sorts of parts of me that eat this stuff right up, and the Day Dream Believer in me is absolutely certain that this will finally close the chasm that has developed between me and Mom since I told her I didn't like girls anymore, and we'll go back to being best friends and close confidantes and unhealthily enmeshed. And maybe just my mom's friends will come, without their husbands, and M.'s mom's friends will come, and it will just be M. and I and all our friends and thirty 65-year old women.

Another potential scariness: This morning, I posed to M. the hypothetical of using the reception hunt weekend as a means of having our mothers meet by inviting them both along. M. thinks it's not a bad idea at all.

Groomzilla thinks Groomzilla might not be sane at all.