In the middle of Googling Herman W. Mudgett, my oldest called. "Mom, I have some questions about weddings," he said. GASP! Breathe in. Breathe out. [A soft and low voice in the back of my head started chanting, "Elope. Elope. Elope. Elope..."].

Everyday and everyday, I am thankful to be the mother of sons. A friend of mine says I'm a MOBO--a mother of boys only. MOBOism has been a good fit for me, and I've enjoyed it immensely. One of the side benefits of MOBOism is not having to obsess about providing The Perfect Wedding For My Little Princess*.

My oldest explained that the wedding in question was that of a fellow grad student. Whew. I asked if he was in the wedding party. "How would I know that?," he asked. Granted, he's been to two weddings in his life, or three if you count the one when he was two weeks old. Normally you know you are a groomsman because the groom personally asks you to stand up with him. It's not like being summoned for jury duty, I explain.

*T P W F M L P
It looks like a bad draw at Scrabble or an eye chart, but it requires weird dresses with matching shoes, fingernail polish, and lingerie showers. The good news is that games requiring attendees to make as many words as possible from the letters in the names of the bride and groom have pretty much passed by the wayside at bridal showers.

"I think you have to sit on a special side at the wedding. How do you know which side is the right one," my son asks, "and what is black tie optional?" At this point I'm printing out fourteen pages about Mudgett, America's first serial killer. Fortunately, my oldest is more adept at Googling while on the phone than I. We figure out that he can wear his suit. This is good. The last time he wore a tux and cummerbund he ruined the effect by forgetting to zip his fly. I didn't mention prom since we were having such a fun discussion.

It's a good idea to take a SuDoKu puzzle or the NYTimes crossword along when you are summoned to jury duty. There's quite a bit of waiting around. Taking a SuDoKu or crossword to a wedding is considered bad form, though. Just a free bonus etiquette tip from the CollageMama! Those of us in the jury pool who weren't selected for the trial this morning raced out of the courthouse even faster than "Just Marrieds." We didn't have to gather up our trains or throw our bouquets. We didn't have to duck the rice or birdseed.

The info on H. H. Holmes aka Herman Mudgett was not for me. "Oh, sure," you mutter, "tell it to the judge". It was really for a friend's book club reading Devil In the White City about the Chicago World's Fair.

Now where's my old cassette of David Bromberg singing "Send Me to the 'Lectric Chair"?! Oh, and maybe I should tell my son he doesn't have to take his own Minute Rice to the wedding.

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