The Mother of (the Bride of) Frankenstein

It sums up the way I feel. Daughter has been so bitchy to me. But that's ok. The wedding is tomorrow. I guess all brides are bitchy before their weddings. I took off like a bat out of hell yesterday morning, haven been given the okay to leave work to rush off to do errands, like buy my son clothing for the wedding, and other assorted millions of little piddly things. Rushing from store to store, I realize it is a blessing not to have so much leisure time. Because if I had so much time on my hands, I'd shop for this and that - beginning with bras and underwear, to pajamas, to sandals, to a long skirt, short, skirt, a few tops and pants. It's hard work. The few leisurely hours I had yesterday wore me down. I managed to find my son what to wear and I can tell you that I love shopping with boys. They put on clothes, and if it fits, and they can close the zippers and buttons, and the pants don't fall down around their waist, it's good enough to buy. We didn't search from store to store like I would with one of my daughters. The first store was It.

Today I picked up my mother-in-law and brother-in-law from the airport. He was insane as usual.

"We just bought a house near Lake Wilcox" he said turning to my son in the car. "You say Wilcox with an emphasis on Cox. Lake Wil COX."

He went on about the gay shul in Toronto that he nicknamed "Shaarei Tuches" ("tuches" is Yiddish for "ass").

Hubby's mom was touched that we seemed so close to her even though we live so far. It's been 10 years since she's seen most of us.

"We always talk about you at home, that's why!" I interjected.

"That's because Bubby smokes pot." laughed brother-in-law.

Are we not the Jewish Osbourne family, I ask?