Our families meet tomorrow.

Yes.

Today my grandmother began lecturing me about wedding protocol.  Basically, she’s pissed that we’re not all coming over to her house.  However, I did that intentionally.  One, she hates hosting things.  Two, she almost sold the house and the house (and her) availability was not guaranteed.  Three, WTF?

If you’re not actually helping guide me through this weird mysterious process, and not just coming out of the blue about what’s expected, etc., then don’t come out of the blue with crazy-ass statements about who is responsible for what.  Also, let’s see.  My grandmother eloped.  My aunts and mother?  All divorced.  Call my logic fuzzy, but apparently not having a traditional wedding was never in the cards for some family members, and those who did it didn’t really seem to work out.  So instead of being insulted about weird protocol, maybe we could all put our egos aside and just enjoy the fact that John and I are together and sealing the deal.

This comes on top of my mother insinuating that if we hold the wedding in California, they might not come because “your family’s here” and  “your grandmother doesn’t fly.

Um, well, some of my family’s in DC.  You’re right.  But my mother and grandmother won’t even come into DC to visit, so I don’t understand why “here” is so fucking important.  Also, this notion of “family” suddenly sprouting up in a NOT tightly-knit, NOT exceptionally warm and loving family is RIDICULOUS.  Also, she doesn’t fly?  Well I don’t eat banana bread and every time I come home, it’s made for me, despite for the past three decades I’ve hated banana bread, and I eat it and suck it up because it means so much that they baked some damn banana bread because it’s my favorite–despite how many times I’ve told them otherwise.  At least she could take a Xanax for fear of flying.  There’s no anti-banana-bread-taste pill I can take to avoid the gross vomit flavor of banana bread.