Mas Elegante

I'm getting married in May. Weddings seem to have a chemical peel effect. They bring all the deep debris to the surface with family and friends. Qualities and characteristics emerge in you that you never thought possible. I loathe Martha Stewart and all of a sudden I am jonesing for the next issue of her wedding magazine to hit the stands. I am not cheap but have pretty much given myself an acute case of carpal tunnel from hours on the internet, trying to find the least expensive lavender card stock out there. I never liked pastel colors and now I am trying to find lavender card stock. I don't (as an adult) tend to fight that much with my parents but lately, there have been nightly screaming melodramas where I find myself saying things like "The little girl in me just really wants a donut cart!"

Sometimes though I just need to take a minute and appreciate that I got my particular brand of crazy family. Because as annoying, quirky, and mental as they are, at least we all have the same values and taste. I felt especially grateful for this today as my fiance and I sat at the stationery store where we are getting our invitations done. As we peroused some books, looking for proper wording, a girl and her mother walked in, obviously in the very beginning stages of wedding planning. I know this because their dynamic was still pleasant and optimistic. Let me pause right here to say that I have an unfortunate gift. I can size up someone's character and whether or not I will like it within the first 2 minutes of looking at the person, even if they do not say a word. Seldom am I inaccurate. My fiance is the same way. We are awesome party guests. :) Anyway, I can only describe this girl as not someone I would ever hang out with. I would describe her mother however as not someone I would hitch a ride with even if night in Abu Gharib was my alternative. Mom was all about chunky highlights and bling. Daughter was the odd combo of snobby and depressed. She looked like she may have had a chance to escape Cheeseville at one point but that ship had sailed and now she was deep in it. After knocking my purse off a chair without an acknowlegement or apology, Mom and Daughter sat down next to us and started flipping through the invitation books. They were particularly drawn to a binder entitled "Royal Classics". My fiance looked over at me. We both knew the "royal" part was troubling. We could not have imagined the level of goushe ugliness we were about to experience. Huge, gaudy declaration of independence size invitations complete with the "We the people" dramatic writing. (Thanks, Julie.) Pearlized flowers. Rhinestones. Raised emblems. Faux-classy monograms. Mom and daughter were ooh-ing and ahh-ing at every page. They liked each one better than the last. But then they hit the motherload. The "one". It was a metallic cream invitation. Sort of a pearl like texture. It had huge gold lettering and...netting. A full blown mesh cover that had to be lifted in order to see the actual invite. This was the nouveau riche burka of invitations. "Mas elegante!" Mom exclaimed. She leaned over to me.
"I am very into elegance" she said.
"MAS elegance," I reminded her.
She gave me a blank stare as if she had no idea what I was referring to.

Sometimes I just can't help it. I need to make fun of lame people in order to provide a more comfortable space for both of us. In these kind of situations, I kind of live by the "what they don't know won't hurt them" policy. I mean c'mon, do you think Mom will ever grasp the great irony of her praising elegance while wearing a potato sized diamond cross and using bad Spanglish?