The secret's finally out: There's going to be a wedding in the family. No, not my 29-year-old son. Not my 25-year-old daughter. Mom's the bride-to-be! That's right. My mother, 77, is tying the knot with her 82-year-old beau, a union which will undoubtedly last longer than 84-year-old Hef's marriage to Crystal Harris, 24.
The date hasn't been set but, as Mom told her priest, "We're 77 and 82. Tempus fugit!" Meanwhile, I'm planning the bachelorette party. We can't do Vegas, but you can bet we'll be putting Mom in a makeshift bridal veil and taking her out on the town. Where's a Chippendales show when you need one?