Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Went to the site and while I was there used the cadaver calculator. I'm only worth $4225 as a medical specimen. Bummer. Then again I guess it is nice to be confirmed in the knowledge that one has more value alive than dead.
Yeah, that's right mingle2. I said it. Dead.
Which reminds me, while at the funeral convention, I picked up some state anatomical board information for donating one's body to science. This will be available at the church next week along with more of the final wishes forms I handed out at services two weeks ago. Unfortunately, the groovy hearse pictured in my previous post will not be at the church on Sunday.
And then there's the belly dancing.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
And every now and again, one strikes some gold and writes something just beautiful. So is the case with my Canadian agent Guy Wonders who blogs neighborhood life in Cul de Sac Blues. Now, I've been a fan of "the Sack" for over a year. Mr. Wonders makes me laugh myself silly with his aptitude for capturing conversational nuances. I know that this kind of blog isn't for everyone, but he struck gold this week so I have to share.
Head on up to the Sack. I know all the characters, but you don't have to for this entry. A jogger has begun running through their cul de sac and everyone notices. Guy Wonders could be a woman named Sherri who lives in a high rise in Nairobi, but this posting is so true, so sublime, and, as is the Wonders way, so damn funny, it transcends space, gender and time.
Thank you, Guy Wonders, for this wonderful window into your life. Print this one out. Put a copy with your will. Have it read at your funeral services. And for the rest of you, if the Sack reminds you of any other blogs, send me a link please.
We played one of those childhood games in which the rules, equipment, and teams change with every round. It was like horseshoes, but with a scoring system trickier than Bridge, and equipment from the toy chest. The kindergartner was amused by it all, mostly because we made him in charge of rules and scoring. The rising seventh grader was willing to stoop to our level and was a good sport.
But the ones who had the most fun? The ones laughing until we almost cried? The ones doing the most G-rated but still adamant trash talk? You guessed it. The two retired guys and the mouthy minister.
That's what makes superhero Uncle Dan super. He's seen too much life to take any of it very seriously. He's absolutely devoted to his family. He brings out the kid in us all. For me and my Daddy, that's our best side. We have a tendency to get a little too serious and bookish and Uncle Dan smacks us right out of that. (Aunt Sharon was using her superpowers on the toddler, thus allowing me to play lawn toss for over an hour. Wonderful woman.)
I realize that I'm pretty sentimental these days. It's been a hard year with too much loss, illness, and close calls. But the flip side is that I'm really appreciating the time my family and friends have together. Savoring it more than I have in years. The weddings, the front porch dinners, the super yard toss tournament, the thunderstorms... it's all feeling like the sweet nectar of life right now. For that I am incredibly grateful.
Got a sermon on this topic tomorrow at 10 if you want to come. This is probably the better version, though. Lord knows it is SHORTER. And there are pictures!
Oh, one more thing. For the record, my Daddy cheats. Rematch!!!!
Friday, June 08, 2007
The Auspicious Jots clan journeyed to PA for my brother's wedding last week. The drive was horrible. The rehearsal dinner was great. My bro looked like a stud muffin and his bride was beautiful and gracious. (Trust me on that one, none of my pics turned out of her.) The groomsmen wore matching brown Converse. The band at the reception played that oldie and goodie whose chorus is something like "Then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you" and the singer sang it to me. (Yeah, I'm a sucker for that move. If you're not, your heart has turned to cold slick granite. Or so I told my husband when he returned to the table after the song and asked me why I was grinning like a fool.) All around blast.
Weddings are times for nostalgia. Many of us talked of Grandma Frances who died a few years ago in her nineties. We sorely missed my brother who could not make it, but whose son stood for him in the groom's line. We marveled at the fact that Grace can legally drink a gin and tonic. ("For Pete's sake, I'm 26!") And some of us quietly said prayers of thanksgiving and hope for the family member undergoing radiation treatments who was loudly shaming the rest of us to join her on the dance floor. We could barely keep up with her.
One of my favorite moments of the weekend, I uncharaceristically managed to capture with my camera. There was a thunderstorm after the rehearsal dinner. My son and I were still awake and he watched the spectacle out the hotel window.
This picture speaks volumes about my life, and about my family. His little askew jammies with astronauts. His sister's little pink sandals and his father's big shiny shoes together. His attempts to be the big man, but still being amazed by all kinds of little things I take for granted. My attempts at capturing some of the dozens of charming, funny, sweet things that my family does every single day. It's all there. Luckily, wedding nostalgia had a hold of me and I got a picture of it.
Mazel Tov to the bride and groom. Last I checked they were in Istanbul being mistaken for American soap opera stars. Long live the beloved family. Somebody find that lead singer. I want to hear Cole Porter's "So in Love!"