Wedding Blog: An Embarrassment of Riches

The last time I spoke to my mom, she told me she'd gone jewellery shopping with the boyfriend's mom.

I mean, how cool is that? They're getting along... yay!

But before I could celebrate too much, mummy dearest dumped the next load of Heavy-Thought Provoking Information on my head. This hadn't happened for almost three weeks at this point - and I should have known it was too good to last.

She told me what jewellery she'd bought for me.

I'd rather not go into a lot of detail here, thanks very much, but for the purposes of conveying what I need to convey to get on with the post, let me just say rubies and emeralds figured into it. And gold, of course. Gold's the star of the show.

I feel like the frickin' Queen of Sheba. Except, perhaps, that the Queen of Sheba actually wanted her camels laden with peacocks, ivory and apes, whereas I will probably never wear the said items of jewellery ever again after the wedding.

Not that it isn't totally sweet of my parents to do this. It's tradition and whatnot, too, and I - I used up my iconoclasm quota wrt this wedding a long time ago, so I'm not even going to try to do anything about it.

But... you know... it's hard not to get a bit freaked when your fiance suggests that maybe we should buy a safe (yes, an actual safe), because all of a sudden, we have valuables.

Speaking of my fiance, let me assure you: if he's ever referred to me as 'my lady' - let alone 'Dear Madam' - in all of nearly seven years that I have known him, I'll eat my substantial stock of jewellery. Methinks the man fancies himself British, 'my dear' and all.

:P

(And that, dear, is an outed tongue.)