Japanese Porn + cheap wine + emotional disturbance = bad reality television metaphor

For every fourth post that I start to write, there is a moment where I must pause to remind myself, No, actually, nobody's paying to watch the I Work with Dead People: And You Thought Your Job Was Emotionally Taxing? show.

But seriously? While we're on the subject? Briefly? My job can be pre-tty emotionally taxing. And then I come home all sad and have a glass of pinot grigio which makes me a little bit sadder, and then I put M. through the emotionally taxing motions of being a Social Work Wife, and then I think, Hmm it's been a few days since you've blogged, maybe that will make you feel better. And before you know it, here we are and I've written nothing wedding-related and I've already wasted thirty minutes watching creepy Japanese porn trailers** (and I thought my job was emotionally taxing...?) and my weakening-with-every-waking-breath 29 year old body is quickly falling prey to that glass of p.g..

So let's see....

My mother has now taken on the role of calming me down about the wedding. Every time I start breathlessly panicking to her about what to do when and where we're going to do what and how much it's all going to cost, she slips on her Compartmentalize and Prioritize apron and throws a verbal glass of cold water in my face, or holds a verbal brown paper bag up to my mouth, or verbally slaps me across the face to bring me back to reality. Maybe not that last one.

When I told her about the $6000 itemized quote from the tent company, she told me to email her a copy and she would go through it. She also told me to email her the list of recommended caterers and she would - - well, she didn't exactly say what she would do, but she was implying that she would either drive to Wellfleet and taste their crab quiches or at least call them to get the 4-1-1 on whether or not they bring their own bouillion spoons. Then when I was talking to her on the subway platform after work today (this Whole Wedding Business has increased our phone time from once every 1-1.5 weeks to once every 5-6 days), she very rationally told me that we just need to do first things first, and we've already got the location figured out so the next thing is the caterer and maybe the tent, and any caterer who does clambakes will at least provide the lobster crackers, and really it doesn't make any sense to try and meet with the caterers until after Labor Day and...etc etc etc..

So basically, Mom is becoming the mother-of-the-groom version of that scary life coach lady on The Swan. And it is calming and reassuring in much the same way I would imagine the Swans are calmed and reassured before their Big Reveal. It's also juuuuust a little bit scary because I alternate between getting mad that she is implying that I am being too planny, and nervous that she is taking over the whole plan and stealing my Big Reveal, and also maybe I am being just a wee little bit of a fourteen year old because I feel like I need to assert my adulthood but I also kind of like the idea of her shepherding me through the process.

And let us not forget that Mommy And Me are only 50% of the equation - - once she and I and M. and his mommy all start weighing in together, I will need two glasses of p.g. and a starring role in a creepy Japanese porn trailer - - but I suppose that will just make our Big Reveal that much more exciting and, to belabor a metaphor, when we look at our reflections in the bouillion spoons, or perhaps even the Ice Luge, we will be just that much more Oh-My-God-We're-Beautiful.


**Not suitable for work. But I bet you didn't skip ahead to see what the asterisk meant first, did you, you crazy Japanese porn fiend?