Wedding Bliss

Update: The candle battle rages on. My mom has now given me money to go buy the larger candles. I think I'm caving on this one. My will is not as strong as hers.

In other wedding news, there are two (count them, one-two) wedding showers this weekend for the bride, which I will be attending. One of these showers is being co-hosted by my mother (which comes as a surprise to no one, I'm sure). The other is a "couples" shower and I'm unsure, etiquette-wise, if I'm supposed to take a gift. Guess I'll have one in the car just in case.

This is a very bad season to have a Greek wedding. We Greeks are fasting for Lent, which means no animal products in our diets. This makes it very hard to enjoy wedding showers and bachelorette party weekends in Florida when most everything aside from the vegetable tray is off limits. Luckily the wedding, itself, is well after Orthodox Easter, which is a week after Western Easter this year, just FYI for those of you keeping score at home.

This, coincidentally, is the same weekend as the afore mentioned bachelorette party, which I would like to go to but won't because it overlaps with Easter. My mom expects me home for Easter, and quite honestly, I can't imagine myself on the beach during the holiday. So I won't be going. This didn't stop me, of course, from getting into a fight with my mother about it last weekend. She was trying to tell me that bachelor parties were for boys and that "good girls" don't do that kind of thing and that I wasn't going. Clearly she has no idea what I was talking about, but I didn't have the energy to try and explain it to her and anyway she wouldn't have listened since she knows she's right already. She's very stubborn. Like a mule. So instead I told her that "I was 30 years old and I'll do whatever I feel like doing."

Granted, this was a stupid fight, especially since I had already said I wasn't going. But I get tired of her telling me how to run every small detail of my life. For example, a few weekends ago she was giving me job advice, even though she has never had an office job and certainly knows nothing about my profession. She can't even read English!

And now, the best news. The bride's maids dresses are in. My mom has mine now. I can't wait to see it this weekend and report back in full detail on exactly how bad it makes me look. Maybe I can even muster up a portrait of the dress. Oh will the glories of being the koumbara ever end?