Theory of Relativity

On Friday, Martha and her parents would swing by to pick me up at 5:30 for the rehearsal dinner. I got home from the actual wedding rehearsal at 4:30 and asked my mom if there was anything I could do to help; she said no. At 5:15, after I'd already changed, she asked me to make a salad (not a rip up some lettuce salad; a very involved salad). I made it on time and without spilled on my clothes, but didn't have time to wash my hands, so I went to the car smelling like garlic. The rehearsal dinner was a lot of fun- it was in an old, converted theatre, and had interesting acoustics. At one point, one table was having a serious discussion about China, and a faraway table overhearing them thought they were listening to NPR.

***

I take after my father in many ways (my mother often says I've picked up the worst of both of them). We both appreciate the perfect fried egg, and although we have different ideas about the form of that perfect egg, we both agree that it should be produced with the utmost concentration and consumed immediately before it has a chance to overcook or get cold.

After I finished my yoga I went into the kitchen where dad was getting breakfast ready. Mom was still gardening. I asked whether I or he were making my mom's egg, he said he would but that he'd wait, otherwise it would get cold and she would yell about it. I said she'd yell anyway (it was Saturday morning, after all) and probably not about that. She came in from the garden and gave the go ahead to make the egg, but my father protested because she still wanted to shower before consuming it, in which time it would get cold. She replied that she would shower quickly and that he should go ahead. To protest at this point would be to invite the, "of course I'm not ready! I've been working all morning. All I ever do is pick up after you people!" speech, which was sure to come anyway (and it did) but neither of us cared to cue it. It arrived when, instead of going upstairs to shower, my mother started preparing some flowers she had cut and my father called her on it. She responded with the speech, my dad got frustrated, turned off the skillet and went to deal with laundry. He told me to go ahead and make and eat my eggs, as I was farther along in the process and less able to pause. I did, and just as I had the second egg in mid-air, my mother demanded that I move the thorns and discarded leaves off the table. She has a knack for picking the moments in which she'd like me to drop everything.

We ate and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and start putting together what I'd take to the wedding. Wendy called and we were discussing last-minute wedding logistics for a few minutes when I heard mom screaming at me. I told her I was on the phone. The screaming continued and I continued to ignore it..

I came downstairs.

"I can't find My Favorites! What did you do to them?"
"Nothing."
"Whenever I close the windows I'm working on, I always tell IE to open to the same windows. I always check that box."
"Well, you didn't close those windows- I did, and you didn't tell me to do that. And I don't see what that has to do with your Favorites."
"Never mind, I found them."
"Are we going for a walk?"
"I don't know- are we? You're the one who was on the phone all morning."
"I was on the phone for five minutes... with a friend who's wedding is today..."
"Five minutes? You have a very creative concept of time. Have you studied Newton... [she went off on this theme; I tuned her out].

We finally got out for a walk, but my mom, perhaps sensing my anxiety, opted for a walk farther from the house and insisted on stopping at the Russian food store. Why she couldn't make that trip while I was at the wedding was beyond me, but we had some time so I let it go. One of her shortcuts to the store goes through a parking lot, and we passed AJ Wright, which had purses on sale out front. My mom asked me if I wanted to purse-shop (I needed one for the wedding) while she went to the store; I said sure because I hate going to that store. I have so many purses at home (i.e. in Alexandria) that it pained me to buy one just for the wedding, and for better or for worse the more affordable (affordable enough to be disposable) purses were amazingly hideous.

They picked me up and we went for our walk. After we turned back, mom wanted to keep walking. I said I'd be more comfortable if we didn't. She said "just for a 15 more minutes." Eventually she caved. She got to the driveway and saw enough cars lined up across the street that it would be a slow, challenging parking experience, so I asked her to let me out so that I could start getting ready. Usually this isn't an issue- she lets me out, I open the back door for her from the inside, and she takes her sweet time getting to the door, stopping to note all the flowers on her way, even watering some. However, since she apparently didn't feel that I was entitled to my time anxiety, she balked and said, "well, you can also just get out when I've parked." I said I wanted to get out then and there and she finally consented.

Oh, on the way home she mentioned that she didn't like the dress/hated the fabric and that if I ever got married I should just send my bridesmaids to AJ Wright or Dot for their dresses. She added that she didn't really understand why a wedding was such a big deal, why it merited so much ceremony.

I got ready for the wedding (thankfully we would change on location, so I didn't have to endure more abuse related to the dress) and gave her a hug on my way out, which she took as an opportunity to comment on my back fat. Nothing new, just, "well, you really have gotten fatter."

The wedding was beautiful and a lot of fun. When I returned home, my dad asked about it. My mom pointed out that I must have eaten a lot because my stomach was protruding.

[Afterword: My mom did ask about the wedding this morning, although she quickly transitioned that conversation into political discourse, out of which I adeptly manoeuvred].