This whole trip is a bit slap-dash and I’m afraid I’m going to regret how little thought or planning I’ve put into it - other than obsessive-compulsively shopping all week for an outfit and coming up empty. I did get us a hotel room some months ago, but other than that there’s nothing planned or packed. The wedding happens at a chapel and then we drive somewhere else for the reception; we’re going to leave the kids in the hotel room all day, which I don’t feel great about, only to make a pit stop between wedding and reception to throw a pizza in their faces and leave them for a few more hours. We’ll see how all this goes.
After trying on countless modern and vintage things - the dress code is blingy glitzy Vegas - I admitted failure and instead went with a tried and true 1940s look which is really the only way I know how to dress up. I’m old, and my body is in no shape to wear something clingy and sexy and good for a hot summer wedding. Maybe twenty years ago, but not now. My other similarly aged friend said she’s afraid she’s going to look like a nun compared to everyone else. I definitely feel that. But I’m just going to do the old tactic I developed in junior high when I realized I was too poor to compete with the rich girls and their Benetton and swatches - just don’t even try; do something completely weird and different. So I’ll wear one of my favorite pink 1940s dresses and a fabulous feathered hat and that’ll be that.
One of the H’s co workers died suddenly last weekend, so he has the funeral today and then we’ll head out later tonight, probably rolling in around midnight if we’re lucky. Then tomorrow’s the long wedding day, then a kid-friendly pool party on Sunday and then we get home.
For me, now on my third weekend out of town in a row, I am utterly thrashed - yesterday I crashed so hard I canceled my yoga class and just took a two hour nap in the middle of the day. I’d also gotten my flu shot earlier which may have been a contributing factor to my complete exhaustion. But I’m wrecked. All I’ve been able to do for the last three weeks is get home from a trip, do laundry and groceries, pack and unpack and then pack again and head out for the next trip. It’s taking a big toll.
Bobby’s orthodontist says she wants him to start “treatment” early next year - which means braces or Invisalign - before his bite becomes too set. So, that’s happening. Luckily Theo can wait so it doesn’t all happen at once. They have their doctor appointments in a couple of weeks, and I had mine yesterday, scheduled my long overdue first colonoscopy for January.
And of course the elephant in the room of all this is our big (and possibly final) election looming just three weeks and change away. My confidence has waned quite a bit in the last couple of weeks - we’re at such a stalemate at this point that I now think there’s a good chance that the unthinkable will happen and the Orange one will win. In which case, I say what I said back in 2016, that we’ve proven we’re too stupid for democracy. If people really think the Democrats cause hurricanes and people really believe the Republicans aren’t gunning to remove women’s rights, then I just fucking give up. This is my way of emotionally preparing myself for the worst. I hope I’m wrong, I really do. I filled out and mailed my ballot the day I got it - not that my California vote means much - and got the text that it was recorded and counted. Here we go!
