ChgoRed, Girl Editor

MOB Mentality

Mob: To crowd about and attack or annoy. See also: mother of the bride.

Nearly one week into this whole engagement thing, and we’re still engaged. Woo! Families and friends have been notified, and the response has been truly heartwarming. Thanks to all for your lovely comments—The Fiancé and I enjoyed every one of them.

Planning has begun, but slowly. The Fiancé and I are treating this as a team effort: We make the decision, then announce it to people, at which point it’s not really up for debate. It’s a nice theory, but one that doesn't really account for the force that is my mother.

So far, she has questioned or debated nearly every single decision we’ve made. Within moments of telling her the big news, she wanted to know if I was keeping my name, when (not if) we were having children, and where the ceremony would be. Having just moved to Charleston, S.C., that week, it took only a few more seconds for mom to get her heart absolutely set on having the wedding there. As she put it, "We have lots of gazebos.  You could have a beautiful southern gazebo wedding!"

Because I’m all about the southern gazebo weddings.

For those of you keeping score at home:

Decision	Mom’s Response
Location/Chicago	"I was really hoping you would have it down here…"
Month/Year	"September 2006? But that’s just so far away…"
Dress style	"Straps? Ughh…What about something with cap sleeves at least?"
Dress color	"Just promise me you won’t get married in red. Please?"
Doing the flowers ourselves	"Oh no! Doing your own flowers? But what about the flowers for the church?!"
Doing our own invitations	"You’re going to do them yourself?"
Choice of engagement ring	"You don’t want a diamond? But why?"
Having a friend conduct the ceremony	"Internet-ordained…???"

I will admit the best response was the last one, as she was truly mystified by the news that people could go on the Internet, type the right things, and moments later be allowed to legally marry other people.

But the name thing…Christ on a crutch. I never expected so much fuss over this one particular decision. The Rev, bless him, doesn’t particularly like the idea that a woman must change her name. Plus, both of us have spent years dealing with misspellings of our respective last names. Hyphenating them would cause more even grief and sound odd. Plus, The Fiance soundly rejected my very zippy blended name option--"Bizzo." Plus, my first and his last names don’t sound good together either.  They sort of mush up into a nonsense word. Plus, the less paperwork I have to do in life, the better.

No dice. So far, she’s tried to convince me with:

• It would be so nice.

• Your sister did it when she got married.

• It’s part of being married.

• Don’t you want to be Mrs. [RevSpork]? (Nah. I said "Yes" just as a tease.)

• You could be Mrs. [ChgoRed-RevSpork]. (Only 10 letters and a hyphen!)

• It will be harder to get a car or a mortgage. (What the...?)

And the kicker:

• You won’t be able to collect his Social Security when he dies. (Bzzzt! Wrong! But thanks for thinking of my fiancé’s demise in such stark terms.)

I know, I know—I told her the plans, I gave her the ammo. But it was either tell her now and get the nitpicking out of the way, or deal with it over a period of months. Not much choice. I also know that my taste and her taste are worlds apart, and that the only way to avoid every disagreement would be to go the "southern gazebo wedding" route. However, given that the goal is to marry my fiancé, not send him fleeing to Canada, the gazebo was never an option. And really, me...in a hoopskirt? No.

But it will be OK. Because I have a fabulous, funny, wonderful fiancé who is an excellent sounding board; a matron of honor who rocks in so many ways; and a passel of amazing friends. It will be a great day. I can’t wait.

See the Girl with the Amber Ring

Actually, I don't know if it will be amber.  It could be sapphire or emerald, or something else entirely.  I'll know Saturday when we go to pick it out.  We meaning me and my fi-.... fi-... fiance.

As in, he asked last night.  I said yes.  It was spontaneous, heartfelt, genuine and perfect.  Absolutely perfect. 

Am I overwhelmed?  Let's put it this way.  This morning I got on the train and opened my book like always.  Six stations later, I remembered I was supposed to be reading.  I also forgot the name of my stop--twice.

I am dizzy, overwhelmed, and incredibly, incredibly happy.  All at once. 

SporksDad Update

Just got off the phone with The Boyfriend (Reverend Spork) and he actually sounds OK, all things considered. Yesterday had some difficult moments. The traveling went fine, although getting through the labyrinthine hospital to his dad's room was apparently a bit of a task. According to SporksMom, "It was like 'Lord of the Rings'." I told them they make hospitals that way so they can keep you there longer.

The Rev had a tougher time when they got the room, because it's such a shock to see one of your parents that way--weak, pale, not looking too good at all. Just the same, SporksDad was thrilled to see them. The Rev and his mom spent their time talking to his dad and telling him funny stories. The Rev said it helps to know that he can still make his dad laugh. The SporksDad was not to be outdone, though, with quips like, "Am I dead yet?"

The Rev and his mom will be back at the hospital today, seeing his dad, visiting with a social worker to talk over money issues, and attempting to meet with the ever-elusive oncologist.

His dad's health isn't much changed from yesterday. (Apologies for anything repeated from earlier.)

-- Although SporksDad is thirsty a lot (possibly due to his meds), he's not able to take in a lot of fluid orally. So, yesterday's CAT scan (which requires drinking a special dye) had to be cancelled. He is scheduled for an MRI sometime today.

--He moves in and out of consciousness. When he is responsive, he's very responsive; then he'll just drift off. His nurse says he's not in pain, but The Rev and his mom have noticed that he does seem to be experiencing some discomfort.

-- His spinal cord is at least partially severed, thanks to the tumor. So, whatever they might be able to do to the tumor, this means his chances of ever walking again have gone from 50%-50% to pretty much nil.

--Something, possibly his meds, is driving up his blood sugar. He's now on insulin, at least temporarily.

-- Still dealing with the double pneumonia. Bad enough on its own, this actually complicates his cancer treatment. Because it has to be treated with antibiotics, you need to hold on to all the white blood cells you can. BUT...the chemo he needs to fight his tumor also zaps white blood cells. This means no chemo at least until the pneumonia is gone.

--Without any chemo to keep it in check, the tumor is almost certainly spreading. He's started having problems with his hearing, which might/might not be related to the tumor spreading along his spinal cord. No one knows for sure yet.

And that's about it. The Rev and his mom are doing their best to keep their spirits up. If I hear anything else, I will post it.

The Latest

All things considered, last night went quite well.  Mom-of-Boyfriend arrived without incident.  We took her out to dinner, walked her around Andersonville, showed her a bit of the lake and our new neighborhood, and generally had an OK time. It helped that we got a little good news last night. Without it, the bad news might have been too much to bear.

The good news.

From the outside, the Boy's Dad is doing slightly better. More alert, more talkative, more lucid. Able to carry on conversations again. Sitting up in bed and actually eating something. Just small amounts of lunch, ice cream, cheesecake, etc., but at least it's something. He knows the Boy and his mom are on their way; maybe that knowledge is helping a bit.

And, the bad news...

— His spinal cord is at least partially severed, thanks to the tumor. We'll know to what extent after this morning's CAT scan. So, whatever they might be able to do to the tumor, this means his chances of ever walking again have gone from 50%-50% to pretty much nil.

— Double pneumonia. Bad enough on its own, this actually could complicate his cancer treatment. Because it has to be treated with antibiotics, you need to hold on to all the white blood cells you can. BUT...the chemo he needs to fight his tumor also zaps white blood cells. This means no chemo at least until the pneumonia is gone. This assumes that there will even be chemo, because if the radiation therapy hasn't shrunk the tumor already...well, yeah. You get the idea.

The Boy and his mom are at the airport now. We'll see how it goes.

The Situation

You know that Oprah ad where she gravely intones, "Every moment is worth celebrating…"? I hate that ad, because, seriously, not every moment is worth celebrating. The woman clearly does not spend enough time in grocery store check-out lines. And after this weekend, I hate that ad even more. Not only were there moments not worth celebrating, there were moments so painful that I would pay serious cash to keep The Boyfriend and his family from having to live through them.

In case you just stumbled in, The Boyfriend’s dad is battling lung cancer. Having been through it twice, in his lungs and brain, this is version 3.0, "Let’s See What We Can Do to His Spine..." He has deteriorated in an alarmingly brief three weeks, going from "My legs aren’t working right," to a phone call from a stranger in New York that included the line, "If he were my dad, I would come soon." Celebrate that, Oprah.

The Boy is holding up as best he can, considering. His mom will be here tonight, and tomorrow they fly out to face doctors, hospitals, relatives, friends, and The Situation itself, whatever it might hold.

There’s so much to say, and yet I have no coherent thoughts about this. I’m trying to make sense of it all while still going through everyday life. And however hard it might be for me, it is so much harder for The Boy. They are just getting to know each other as grown-ups. Another five years and the relationship between them would be that much stronger. The Boy’s Dad is only in his early 50s, and aside from a chronic curmudgeonliness, is generally a nice guy. He’s always been kind to me, and he loves his son dearly. He’s even nice to two cats that treat him abominably. He should have a lot of time left-time to visit his son, maybe see a foreign country, or just enjoy the life he’s made for himself. This should be happening to someone who deserves it, some puppy-hurter or axe murderer. But it’s not. It’s happening to my guy and his family, this week, and that’s all I can focus on right now.

In other news, Don’t smoke. It’s so not worth it.

Something in the Water

Who says government employees are lazy? Not in my town!  Why, in Chicago they're practically setting records for industriousness. Not at their actual jobs, of course.

In other news, our mayor is not a heroin dealer.