For some reason (maybe it's the summer weather and TOO HOT METRO ride home earlier today) I'm feeling too tired to do much in the way of any kind of creative writing today. Except to say that in the downhill run to the wedding, everything in my life is about a myriad of tiny details I get to check off of one list or another.
This week so far, we can cross off:
- A doctor's appointment for me (just a check-up to get some RX refills before the summer vacation months) and I'm in great health, thank you.
- Georges got a really fantastic haircut
- And he took his new suit pants to the tailor (how is it that alterations for men's clothing are always so much cheaper than for women? Just 6€ to hem the new pants AND get another pair repaired!)
- Manicure/pedicure, part 1 of 2 (my nails and feet were so neglected I knew that doing them the day before the wedding would never be enough, so now I've got a good head-start on ring-worthy hands and feet I will not be embarrassed to slip into my pretty silver sandals on The Day)
- Letters (in French) we needed to write for some of the stuff we'll do at the Consulate in NY after the wedding
- Collecting the last of ALL the necessary documents; now just to photocopy, sort, and double-check everything.
- Found Georges' summer clothes while reorganizing the closet, so he'll have something to wear in the hot, humid July weather in New Jersey.
And tomorrow, I sort of get to be a real step-mom to the oldest child for the first time; he's having a little minor procedure on his foot and I will be on hand afterward to take care of him if he needs help, as I suspect there will be some pain involved. Maybe even a lot of pain, feet being a sensitive zone. He seems a little anxious about the whole thing, but at age 19 he's trying to act like he's not really worried. However, with my VAST EXPERIENCE as a step-mom in training, I can see through his bravado. So I'll be on stand-by all afternoon. Just in case.
If for no other purpose than to supply him with Coca-cola, pick up whatever pain-killers the doctor orders, set up the TV next to the sofa so he can be more comfortable, show some sympathy for his discomfort, and keep the little kids from jumping on his foot. What's a belle-mère for, anyway?
