The Stars and the Cookie Jar

So.
My mother.

This is two weeks before the wedding.

"I think you should ask your grandfather to walk you down the aisle."

Me: *blank look*

"I'll call you tonight because we really need to talk about it, but I think you need to get someone else like your grandfather to walk you down the aisle."

My mother was supposed to walk me down the aisle.

I am so confused.
This after a weekend spent -- in addition to pretty pretty oh so shiny rings -- mostly dealing with the anger I still feel toward my mother.

But! Pretty pretty oh so shiny rings!! Our diamonds arrived and they are beautiful. Our wedding bands are equally beautiful. We have shoes and stockings and alarming undergarments. We have guests! We have rooms at the Motel Six! (We'd stay with N's parents but really, have you met their dog? I have nightmares, honest and truly nightmares, about seeing that dog amidst the shreds of our ketubah.)

Things are proceeding apace. I can't believe it'll all be so soon.

It's a great thing, being so pleased, so excited and so happy that the quiet assassination of one's mother can wait.

Also it's okay, because I have an adopted mom in Canada. *beams* We may eliminate the old model altogether in favour of this recent upgrade.