In which I lament being the offspring of a big jerk

My father and I have always had a difficult relationship. He was distant and overly critical and mean to my mother while I was growing up. I really hated his guts during high school because of one particular time that he yelled at my mother and I overheard. Really. Hated him for years afterward- we barely spoke, though we lived in the same house. Then while I was in college, he was a huge asshole when I came out- I won't list off the many ways- I still had to live with him for a couple of months in there, and it's the only time I ever flunked school. Along the way, he's been a jerk in many other ways- trying to control the whole family with his money, treating my big sister like crap, being a jerk in general to my mother. We had a couple of ok years after he started to get over my coming out- we were healing a little, getting to know each other a little, he liked J. Then I got engaged to J, and at first he wasn't going to come to the wedding (this was a year ago). That was a big fight, but we hashed that out and he decided to come. Things were ok again until about a week ago.
My mother called me, upset that he'd stopped taking his anti-depressant again (he suffers from major depression and anxiety as well as social problems). He's generally nice when he's taking his meds and mean when he's not. So poor mom is at her wit's end. We all went to my sister's that Saturday, and he was making snipey, mean comments. Mom calls me again yesterday, this time in tears. Now, listen buster- I don't know who you think you're dealing with- nobody but nobody makes my mother cry! So I go over to see her and she's upset because of two things. First, she comes home from a meeting the other night to a "For Sale" sign in front of the house- dad in his manic state has suddenly decided that they must sell the house- immediately. So, having not been consulted about whether or not she wants to sell her home, she gets mad and they have a fight and now he's not speaking to her. Huh? Weren't you the one who picked a fight, mister? You don't get to be mad. Then, because he can't get his tires replaced right when he wants to (oh my gosh, he'll have to wait until Tuesday), he decides he wants to sell the car now. Hm, impulsive, alternately manic and depressed- bipolar anyone?) The second reason mom cried is that she found some kind of something- I don't know what- and she thinks he wants to divorce her, after 38 years of marriage. Which I would doubt, because he's certainly no prize (obviously) and I don't think he would survive without her, but she's upset. So, that's bad enough right?
Last night he calls to say I'd probably get something in the mail today from him, and that he wrote it when he was feeling bad and that "I shouldn't pay too much attention to it". I ask him if he wants me to just throw it away then (and I could- I have very good willpower about such things), but no he says to read it. And then immediately hangs up. WTF? So I get this letter, and read it (background note: when I was delegating duties for the wedding, I asked him to distribute our checks to vendors that day so we don't have to worry about it). "Kate, You should find someone else for your check distributions. My present state of mind does not permit me to participate. Perhaps my doctor's letter can explain my condition. Goodbye, Dad", attached to which is a doctor's note he just got from his psychiatrist to say he can't do jury duty. Do I have this right? My dad just gave me an effing doctor's note to get out of coming to my wedding. What the effing eff?! This is not the 8th grade! If you're not coming then just say so, you jerk! And don't excuse yourself on the basis of your "present state of mind"- you chose to feel this way when you chose not to take your meds anymore, so don't give me that bullshit! But that phone call- "don't pay too much attention to it". Does that mean he's coming? Or not, because he still told me to read it. And even if he is still coming- why the hell would he send me this stupid, hurtful letter less than a month before my wedding? He really is the most selfish person I've ever met. I've often thought, given the way he can't ever seem to respect anyone but himself, that he's stuck at the developmental stage where small children genuinely believe the world revolves around them. Sorry, for the rant, but whether he's coming or not- I'm really, really, really pissed. I'm going over there to find out right now.

Holy Crapola- One month left!

We have somehow arrived at the last four weeks of our 15-month engagement. How did that happen? August 3rd, folks- crunch time. Actually, we're feeling pretty good, having gotten many things done early. There's still a ton of stuff left to do, though. Like thank-you notes, seeing as we just got our first few wedding presents :) I like presents, I won't lie. It definitely feels a little funny to be getting presents like place settings and crystal candlesticks, though. I think that means we're grown ups now. Which is good because we just met with our social worker for the last time and all our references are in, so if the Commonwealth of Massachusetts indeed decides we are worthy as foster parents, we're most definitely going to have to be grown ups. Not yet, though- wedding first! Still to do: track down the twenty-one people who have still not RSVP'd, finish prep work for cake, finish music selections and find all remaining tracks for T, finalize ceremony and design programs, seating chart and placecards, figure out those pesky favors, finalize decor plans, pay balance on rings and have them customized, figure out hair, get J's shoes, go to final fitting and pick up gowns, decide on accessories, protect fingernails and whiten teeth, get gifts for various VIPs, delegate day-of duties, make bridal-emergency-kit, pay remainder of floral bill, confirm with all vendors, and, um, oh yeah- vows. Vows would be good. They are currently looming just large enough in my mind to render me speechless. I'm workin' on it!

Tasty Tasting

Yum, yum, yum! We had our tasting at the Northampton Brewery today. Not only did we get 4 free dinners, but our choices of Grilled Citrus Salmon, Grilled Marinated Flank Steak, Honey Ale Chicken, and Wild Mushroom Ravioli a la Vodka turned out to be fabulous choices indeed! Highly impressed we were! We even got to see the inner workings of our fave restaurant because we asked to see the refrigerator where our cake will be stored prior to the reception. Seating/dancing space is all settled thanks to the good advice of the manager. Windows are measured for our decorations. Music schedule provided to my sister, maid of honor, and partner extraordinaire of our music-man who desperately needed it. Now if we could only get those remaining 30 out of 70 people to RSVP! And cake tier plates in the right size. Oh, Michael's Craft Stores, how do I love thee? And why, oh why, don't you have the right size cake plates? Off to ebay, I suppose. In the meantime (not that anything else huge is going on these days), wish us luck for our job applications we've just sent out! And thanks!

Fair warning

to friends of bridezillas everywhere- when your friend or family member sends you her wedding invitation in June, asking for your reply by July 15th with a reply card that she and her crew painstakingly made by hand with an envenlope whose postage has already been paid for out of her very strained weddding budget... reply! Right away! Certainly by the RSVP date! Most certainly by a week after the RSVP date! There are poor souls behind you on the B List who need their invitations, but won't be getting them if I don't know which of you are not coming- are you flaunting your A List status at them? I'm trying to tame the bridezilla within, but I've run into one of the giant peeves of wedding planning, and she really wants to roll! Really- come on now, folks, this is not a birthday party or a family cookout- it's my wedding. And my wonderful family spent hours upon hours creating these invitations. And I spent a lot of money on postage, and it really irks me to waste a stamp. And really, the choices are not so hard- I know most weddings don't offer 4 choices of entree, but since we can't feasibly do a buffet in the space, we thought we'd offer a variety. Could it be that it is impossibly difficult to choose between Grilled Citrus Salmon, Grilled Marinated Flank Steak, Honey Ale Chicken Breast, and Wild Mushroom Ravioli a la Vodka? There is even space at the bottom specifically for y'all to tell me of your allergies and your vegan diets and your extreme aversions to onions. So fill it out and stick it in the mail! Arrrrr! Hear me roar!

Waiting... I hate waiting...

Sorry for the lengthy hiatus. Not that nothing's been going on- lots has been going on. Wedding 1, wedding 2, birthday party, dancing lessons (yes, I am enjoying looking entirely foolish as I try to Salsa), work, work, work. Oh yeah, and we finished our homestudy. Woo! And the reference thingies have been sent (and received by at least 2 of them). Not that this means much right now. We still get to wait. I have no problem with waiting because we're not planning on doing this at least until October anyway, but I just hate waiting for waiting's sake. And since the Massachusetts legislature decided yesterday to put off their vote on whether or not to put the civil rights of a minority up to the vote of the majority (i.e. the same-sex marriage ban) until November 9th, there's more waiting. That stinks because I wrote "Victory Day" and hearts all over yesterday in my datebook, but I guess it is a victory of sorts because it gives MassEquality and the MGLPC and the other organizations fighting the good fight more time to switch votes (and we still need a lot more votes.)
Fun tip of the week: high humidity wears out the batteries in your fire and carbon monoxide alarms. We've had the smoke alarm give us much too early and very rude awakenings twice this week, and I just had an afternoon shocker from the CO detector- they beep/go off when they get low. They're both sitting on the kitchen table with the batteries out so they'll shut up. Now that doesn't look good for our foster-care application. Off to the store for batteries!