  Recently, my mother, a traditional kinda Italian gal, has become more vocal than usual about the possibility of my lady and I tying the knot. Just to be fair, this wasn't a novel topic coming from her. Ever since we've moved to Santa Barbara she's been talking about having a wedding at our house and how exciting it would be. I imagine she began having these thoughts as her 4 years of redesigning of our house were coming to an end and a void suddenly opened up in her creative world. Since then, she's had no problem with petitioning all her friends and family members that are in relationships (of any duration or commitment) to consider our house as a possible location. When family friends visited last summer after not seeing us in probably over 10 years she delighted in offering wedding services to the son of an old friend whom had brought his girlfriend along. The couple, noticeably surprised by the offer smiled coyly until the subject was changed and my mother distracted. So it didn't come as an immediate surprise when my mother informed me that she thought my lady might be "the one". I told this to Tony and he vowed to refer to my lady as Neo from now on. When I asked my mother why she might believe this to be so, she just replied, "I dunno, I just have a feeling," which means that she's pooled the information she regularly garners from psychics, astrologers, and hidden messages in Dr. Phil's mustache to come to this conclusion. But my mother's confidence, despite ever meeting my lady, is worth something. I'm usually the one to plan out the next 10 years with someone.
Even though my mom probably loses some bladder control at the thought of having her own son getting married at her house, she has always offered words of caution when thinking too far off in the distance. "I wish I would have dated more before I married your father," is my favorite. Basically my mom is telling me that her marriage is kinda F-ed and I should get out there and spread my seed into a crowd like a shotgun blast.
So, as I prepare to jet my lady off to the West coast for her first meeting with the rents, here's to hoping that my mother won't immediately ask where we want the salsa buffet table--next to the Guatemalan paper guest book or the Rose path photo nook? A reading from the book of Jacob: Blow is blow. 
