Lucy Needs Sympathy

I don't think I've mentioned the upcoming wedding of my grandson Ben to The Lovely Teresa. Ben is studying to be a dentist but he and Teresa have decided not to wait to get married. "Granny, we're so much in love we want to get married now."

And so, on July 29th, 2006 Ben and The Lovely Teresa are getting hitched in a "biggy" wedding celebration. (That date might sound familiar because it's in direct conflict with the Blogher conference in California. I was very excited about going to Blogher but obviously I'll have to wait until the '07 conference as the family would take a dim view of my absence at Ben and Teresa's wedding.)

This is the wedding the kids said would be a "simple" affair. However, like Topsey it seems to have "growed" over the past few months. Among the commitments made by those of us in the "Donn Dimension" is hosting a rather formal bridal shower on the 23rd of April. It is now 10 days from that date. It might as well be tomorrow as far as I'm concerned. Carole believes it is still months away.

I am a planner. If an occasion arises I plan what to do, where to do it, when to do it, how to get it done and what to wear at the earliest possible moment. It's all standard procedure and it's served me well over many decades.

My daughter-in-law feels all this planning is inhibiting and uptight. Our power struggles are very understated and polite. Mutually passive-aggressive sums it up quite nicely. I use guilt like both a saber and scapel---depending on what seems most effective at the time. Carole opts for immediate pacification and subsequent procrastination.

But now I'm at the hand-wringing stage. Carole and Jack dropped everything and flew to NYC for the holiday---with only 10 days to go until the shower that is supposed to be perfect and special and ON TIME. Carole said not to worry. We have "The List." Grannylu can make any decisions that arise based on "The List." To me this is like giving me a medical textbook and assuring me I can do brain surgery. It takes me two days to decide what color socks to wear.

The caterers have questions, there were no maps in the invitations; what about the flowers? Poor Lucy is a wreck. When I fret by phone Carole replies , "I thought this was supposed to be wonderful and fun. All this fussing is making it an ordeal. Let's just give them the money instead." She means it too.

It's all too scary and frustrating. Oh, woe is me... I think I'll have a glass of wine and take a nap.