Feb 14 2005
the wedding quilt
I’ve been meaning to write about this for a couple of weeks, but I keep forgetting. I suppose that today is as good a day as any to get around to it, since, um, well, yeah. Anyway, here goes:
A couple of weeks ago, my mother and I were having dinner when she said, “I shouldn’t tell you this.” Any time anyone says anything like that, it automatically means that the only appropriate response is, “Tell me right now.” And then she told me. Because that’s how exchanges like that are supposed to work.
Anyway. What she told me was that my grandmother is making a quilt for me, which is very sweet and I appreciate it, because, hey, quilts are nice. But this quilt is not just any quilt. No. It’s meant to be my wedding quilt, which means, of course, that my grandmother intends to give it to me as a present when I get married. This is hilarious for, oh, several reasons, one of which is, of course, the fact that my grandmother said, “I guess I don’t need to hurry to get it done.”
No, grandma, you don’t. And thanks for pointing it out.
Yeah. So in case you don’t know, my grandmother has been on my case about this getting married business since I was 18 years old, because in 1933, when she was 18, she married my grandfather and they were together (happily, no less) for over 50 years so what the hell is my problem anyway? (My problem is, of course, that I can spend hours in a music store agonizing over what CD to buy because I don’t want to have to commit myself to a bad purchase, and that’s just a stupid damn CD which I can throw in a drawer and ignore for the rest of my life (or sell on eBay), and if it’s that difficult for me to commit to buying CDs, imagine how much harder it is to commit myself to the idea of liking someone enough to admit I like this person, let alone to falling in something even remotely related to love enough to get married. Not that I’m even sure I’d want to, since I generally find most love-related things irritating and dumb anyway. Seriously. So leave me alone already.) And now that it’s been seven years since I was 18, and I have remained, for the most part, a stubbornly steadfast spinster, you’d think that my grandma would realize that it just ain’t gonna happen and move on to more productive things, like nagging me about whether or not I brushed my hair.
But no. No, she’s making my wedding quilt.
Yep, she’s gone completely delusional. It’s a damn shame, but I guess these things happen when you’re 90.
