That would be my husband. Lots of talking in the dark, especially lately, as we deal with a family crisis, a fundraising challenge on our almost finished film and my own medical issues. Sometimes we lie awake talking at 4AM.
Then there’s the less earth shattering but still time-consuming question: how to shop for a beach wedding. Honest to God. Our niece is getting married on a beach on Florida’s Gulf coast.
My husband doesn’t care, he says, “I have those linen pants and a cotton shirt that I wear on the rare occasions when San Francisco’s warm.”
It doesn’t matter to him that our brother-in-law, the father of the bride, is wearing something far more informal, shorts and a Tommy Bahama shirt. I had to Google that, it’s a flowery cotton shirt. But it matters to me. I’m my mother’s daughter – she always dressed just right and, even at age 91, she’ll be color coordinated and nicely styled for this. She spent her entire adulthood working full time in offices and, with that narrow waist of hers that I did not inherit, always looked great.
I’m not worried about what my niece thinks about what I’m wearing to her wedding, she doesn’t care about that kind of thing either. But I don’t want to upset my sister, the mother of the bride, who is already beyond dismayed by the fact that – less than a month before the big occasion – major hurricane damage to the kitchen of her condo in Florida is being repaired.
Eighteen months ago, Hurricane Ian pummeled their part of Florida’s Gulf coast and blew the roof off the condo upstairs. To inspect any damage that did to my sister’s condo, their condo association knocked an enormous hole in her kitchen ceiling. At last that is being fixed. But my brother-in-law says he will not have time to paint it.
Her text to me: “He’ll live to regret that.”
Her daughter’s response, “If there’s no time, there’s no time.”
I wanted to text, “If there’s no sympathy, there should be.” But decided to leave well enough alone.
I don’t want to upset my sister even more by wearing the something she would consider the wrong outfit. But shopping in the chilly Bay Area for a beach wedding in warm Florida was disconcerting. At first the stores had nothing but cashmere and down. Now that it’s spring, I’m discovering that this year, the style of clothes you’d wear to a beach wedding are gigantic A shaped things with horrible geometric patterns. I left one store muttering to myself, “I wouldn’t wear that stuff to my own funeral.”
Went shopping in my own closet, sent pictures of a dress to my sister, got her approval. I’m done!
My husband and I can get some sleep!