Just wait

Date: Sunday, May 29, 2005
Time: 8:30 a.m.
Location: Leo's Lunchroom on Division Street
Personal state: Hungover, leaning toward still drunk
You had to be there: Kelley looks up from her polish sausage and potatoes to find me chewing on a bagel with -- unbeknownst to me -- snot dripping out of my nose. She tells me to wipe my nose, which I do with my cream-cheesy napkin.
Clincher: "It's going to be so fun growing old with you," she says.

What's kosher?

This is kosher: a hot dog with grilled onions at Sox park.
This is not kosher: telling relatives that Kati and Kelley are getting married before they have the chance to spill the beans.

I called my sister at the start of the long weekend to RSVP to my soon-to-be sister-in-law's bridal shower. It has a body part theme. I volunteered to buy a present for her skin as ears and hands were already taken. But that's not the point. The point is -- Becky already knew about our Big Fat Gay Wedding (or Intimate Chubby Lesbian Wedding as the case may be).

Now, when it comes to Becky, this is not a big deal. She's down with just about anything. But this worries me when it comes to other relatives. The message is in the massage.

For example, when it comes to my dad, I will probably highlight that he is the only person in our family to actually have attended a gay wedding and thus he is the groundbreaker. It should be old hat for him to attend our ceremony.

Seeing that the ceremony is more than a year away, I haven't approached him yet. But now I don't know if he knows or if he thinks I want him to be the last to know. And this is because my brother spilled the beans. I just don't know how far they've spread.

Mental floss

Gay marriage is kind of like eating vegetables. It is good for your health.

Representatives of the nation's top psychiatric group approved a statement Sunday urging legal recognition of same-sex marriage, according to the Associated Press.
If approved by the association's directors in July, the measure would make the American Psychiatric Association the first major medical group to take such a stance.
The statement supports same-sex marriage "in the interest of maintaining and promoting mental health."
It follows a similar measure by the American Psychological Association last year, little more than three decades after that group removed homosexuality from its list of mental disorders.
The psychiatric association's statement cites the "positive influence of a stable, adult partnership on the health of all family members."
The document clarifies that the association is addressing same-sex civil marriage, not religious marriages.

Survey says

A recent Boston Globe survey indicates that half of Americans disapprove of gay marriage, while 37% responded in favor and 11% had no opinion.

Americans older than age 65, Republicans, Protestants, regular churchgoers and Southerners were more likely to oppose gay marriage, and people under age 35, Democrats and people who do not attend worship services or attend sporadically were more likely to support the unions, according to the Associated Press.

No word on how many Americans oppose gay wedding planners. Or florists. Or priests.

Love plucks

The traditional wedding vow is all encompassing. For richer and poorer, in sickness and in health. But Kelley wants to add a restriction. Her love ends when the hair that grows out of the mole on my chin reaches a quarter-inch. In return, I am threatening her with a weight limit.

Aqua girls

The happy couple dining out in Miami. See more pics by linking on to our photo album.

A save-the-date option

Kelley is the dog.

We are trying to think up alternatives to the traditional wedding invitation. This design, by Stella Marrs, jumped out at us while browsing in the News Cafe in South Beach. We resisted buying out the lot at that moment and were happy to find bulk orders on her website, www.stellamarrs.com.

Early in our relationship, I actually gave Kelley a card of this design featuring a cat in a bridal veil. "No more nights in the alley," it read. Prophetic.

Got bands

For my ring finger.

After enjoying an early dinner on Friday evening in South Beach, Kelley and I did a little window shopping on Lincoln Road. We popped into a jewelry shop on a whim and within 10 minutes, we walked out carrying a tiny red bag with two ring boxes inside. I think this was the first and only time we've been in a jewelry store together since our current rings are family heirlooms and Marshall Fields designs. Who knew it would be so easy?

That night, drinking cocktails and watching playoff basketball, I begged Kelley to go up to our hotel room and get our jewels so we could wear them just for an hour. You know, as practice. But she declined. So now the ring boxes are now on our dresser. I open them and their gleam induces a who-ate-the-canary grin every time.

Miami-ho!

We're on vacation for the week. Aqua girl here we come.

Mother approved

A heart for her grrrls. My mother throws the love sign after we tell my brothers the news.

Mother of the brides

We're getting married -- it's just not something you should tell your mother while laying on the couch.

That's my line, and I'm sticking to it. It is my explanation for why I got so testy when Kelley tried to force the subject a week ago when we dropped the pooch off at grandma's for our semi-annual Miami vacation.

The three of us -- Kelley, mom and me -- were lounging in her dusty apartment, drinking 12 oz. Diet Cokes and 7 oz. Miller Lites, debating whether to see a movie, get drinks or turn in for the night. (The options can be attributed to my mother, me and KQ, respectively. It was 8:30 p.m. afterall on Mother's Day weekend.)

My mom was blabbing about clothes. She would say something about her outfit for My Brother's wedding, and KQ would reply with something like, "Kati, why don't you tell your mother about the other outfit she'll have to buy." Or, "Kati, why don't you tell your mother about the nice dress you bought." Or (enter something equally inviting and infuriating here), since she was laying on the couch in a Xanex-induced state while I was battling the PMS voices in my head who were shouting: "NOT THE RIGHT TIME" and "MAYBE YOU SHOULD ELOPE," or "CAN'T THAT BITCH OF YOURS AT LEAST SIT UP TO DELIVER THE NEWS!"

So, of course, my mother catches on. She isn't dull as a board afterall. And what does she say? "You guys aren't having the pirate wedding, are you?"

"ARGH," yelled Sibyl in her best pirate voice. Then she and Kati stomped off to bed. Or, well, the inflatable mattress.

Deep breath here.

I was much more amenable to Kelley's volleyball conversation maneuvers the following day. Sitting in a stripmall coffee shop, my mom was asking when we were going to take her on a vacation instead of just leaving her to dog sit. We said, while sitting upright in chairs, that next summer we'd all be going to Provincetown for our beach wedding.

She didn't seem surprised or happy or worried. I don't think she even congratulated us. She jumped right to worrying about how to pay for the trip.

Maybe the pirate ship would've made up for the anti-climax.

Fill in the blank

Weddings are consumer nightmares, yet I've found one matrimony-related item not on the market. (At least that seems the case from a Google search.) Wedding vow Mad Libs. If I had more of an entrepreneurial spirit, I'd get right on that.

"I take you (term of affection) to be my lawfully wedded (what you call your girlfriend/boyfriend when she/he isn't around) ..."

Feedback

I changed the comments section on the blog today. Now anyone can post a comment on a message -- before it was just registered users.

Seeking a Sikh?

My Sikh neighbors recently introduced me to TimesMatri.com, a personal ad web site for arranged marriages. It is a must-read for comments like this one, posted by the above nuclear-family seeking Sikh: "I have a sweat spot for educated, intelligent and competent life partner. It does not matter what degree you have, just have one, so that we are on the same page."

So sweet.

Dear Crazy

Dear Kati,
I read today that the Runaway Bride's fiancee said he still wants to marry her. I would probably feel the same way. I just hope you don't mind the weight of an electronic bracelet around your ankle.
XOXO,
Kelley

The Meaning of Wife

Vacation reading by Anne Kingston. I hear gay marriage gets short shrift, but I'm intrigued anyway.

Publisher synopsis from Powell's Books web site: There is a wife crisis in North America, a brewing storm of conflicting forces swirling around what it means to be a wife at the beginning of the 21st Century. The word is so fraught with ambiguity that it has become a litmus test, eliciting from women emotions ranging from longing to antipathy, anxiety to derision. This crisis is at the heart of Anne Kingston's The Meaning of Wife.

Delving into the complex, troubling, and sometimes humorous contradictions, illusions, and realities of contemporary wifehood, Kingston takes the reader on a fascinating journey into the wedding industrial complex, which elevates the bride to a potent consumer icon; through the recent romanticization of domesticity; and across the conflicted terrain of wifely sexuality. She looks at "wife backlash," and the new wave of neo-traditionalism that urges women to marry before their "best-before" dates expire; explores the apotheosis of abused wives and the strange celebration of wives who kill; and muses on the fact that Oprah Winfrey and Martha Stewart, two of the world's wealthiest and most influential women, are both non-wives whose success has hinged on their understanding of wives. The result is an entertaining mix of social, sexual, historical, and economic commentary that is bound to stir debate even as it reframes our view of both women and marriage.

Stew blue too

Got back from Normal a short while ago. Kelley is playing Blue Suede Shoes on the acoustic guitar, and the apartment smells like the beef stew she is cooking for dinner. Judith Parker Phillips-Quinn is turning her nose up at her dog food, lathered with stew sauce, because we didn't share any beef.

I decided not to tell my mom or grandparents about the wedding during my day trip home. I'm going back again on Saturday with Kelley and Judy. I figured we should tell them when we are together. A marriage announcement delivered by only one of the parties with the runaway-bride news blaring on the TV just doesn't seem convincing. Ill-fated, even.

It was surprisingly hard to keep quiet, though. Sitting around my grandma's table, eating strawberry cake and talking about my little brother's upcoming nuptials, I felt compelled to share. My grandparents may even warm to the idea. I made a joke about Kirk Hinrich (Bulls pointguard) being hot in that funny sort of way, and my grandma cut me off. He's a boy, she said, like I should know better. So, hey, maybe she's pulling for my team.

My mom and I also went dress shopping, which is how I got into this whole thing in the first place: buying dresses to incite an occasion. She has to find something to wear for The Brother's wedding that is approved by his bride. No black. No cocktail-feel. Not the case for our big day. If it weren't going to be on the beach, I would demand sexy black attire.