THE MIRACLE CURE

As I was babbling away to my husband about the latest wedding news, he said, “Boy you have been on an unbelievable high ever since Sara got engaged. What are you going to do after the wedding is over?”

As the penultimate multi-tasker, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of projects to keep me from being sucked into a morass of depression. I’m well-aware that Sara and I are in the middle of a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I’m wringing out every single, solitary second of glee I can. Luckily, Sara is way more rational and grounded than I am. I know she’s enjoying being the bride-to-be, but she hasn’t put the rest of her life on hold. I’m glad; many women are so focused on their wedding, they can’t cope with reality once their Big Day is over.

I never miss an opportunity to tell any woman I meet—no matter how casually—that my daughter is engaged. I’m an expert at working this into any and every conversation so artfully that it flows as naturally as hot fudge on a scoop of ice cream. Much to my satisfaction, my audience is usually as thrilled as I am—even though they don’t know me and have never met my daughter. I even went so far as to tell the woman who was making a “courtesy” call to me from CVS about the impending wedding. By the end of our conversation, she was begging me to bring in pictures of the gown when it was finished.

Today, I stopped at Joann’s Fabrics to pick up some thread—about 5 large spools of white—and some beading needles. (Those puppies are going to get quite a work-out. They’re ultra-skinny to start with, but by the time I’m done shoving them through beads and silk, they’ll make a strand of hair look fat.) While I was there, I spotted something that would make a subtle, yet awesome touch to her gown. Spreading it out on the cutting table, I said to the fabric cutter, “Isn’t it pretty?”

She said, “Yes, it is. What are you making with it?” (Just the question I was fishing for.) Although I couldn’t see my face, I know I looked as excited as if I’d won the lottery. “I’m making my daughter’s wedding gown.” I beamed.

I didn’t get much of a response from her because I know she was thinking, “What kind of dress is she making with this tidbit of fabric?” (Yes it is a small piece of fabric, but isn’t it “all in the details”?) I then elaborated on the whole event, describing the dress, giving her a bit of background information, etc.

Guess what? It turns out that I made her wedding gown about 25 years ago, as well as her cousin’s dress 4 years prior to that. Wow, small world isn’t it? Thank goodness she loved her dress and enjoyed working with me. (Pretty scary that her memory of the whole event was still fresh in her mind.)

I must admit I’ve been getting just the teeniest bit nervous because I haven’t been feeling the expected rush of creative overload when I think of her dress. I guess it’s because I’m well-aware that this is the dress of a lifetime. I think my fashion-loving neurons are having a panic attack from the enormous pressure I’m putting on them.

Now that Sara and I made our first lace purchase, the atmosphere in my brain has mellowed a bit and all those little neurons are lining up in an orderly fashion, ready to go to work. Each one has a pad filled with ideas along with an enthusiasm to work together toward a common goal. There was plenty of back-clapping after hearing that Sara approved my latest purchase.

Sara had her first wedding anxiety dream . I have a history of horrendous dreams and I’m sure I’ll have plenty of my own nightmares. Thankfully my waking hours are remarkably stress-free. If they could bottle this high, the pharmaceutical companies and liquor stores would be out of business.