Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Momento Mori

*"Funny when you're dead, how people start listenin'..."

Sure like them there lyrics, yup I do.

Allrighty, so here's what's going on in my head this week:

What are my final wishes?

I've already expressed, to many people, some of these desires for my unfortunate demise but I figured I'd keep a place for all of them, right here on my blog, for all to see eternally, forever and ever, amen.

1. Everyone must wear black at my funeral. No clown colors.

2. I want a black cover for my coffin, no white. This isn't China and dead doesn't mean white...it means black. Dead, dead, deeeeeeeduh. Death=black.

3. I don't particularly like cut flowers so, if you MUST, bring something my kids can plant in the yard and that won't depress them so make it something pretty that you can't kill...like my favorite, LILACS!

4. I won't be a ghost and I won't come back to send you any messages, or leave you pennies, or make you feel like I'm watching you when you're picking your nose, or read my caringbridge page (if someone made one for me), or read facebook, or even this blog, or whatever so get over it already. I will either be A: in Heaven and won't want to leave but I'll put in a good word for you...or B: in purgatory where there is not escape so pray for me instead of look for me in the corner of that picture where you thought you saw a Laura shaped shadow...or C: in that other place (I don't THINK I'll be there, but one just really never knows and I'm pretty sure you can't leave once you get there, anyway so the issue of whether I'd be around to bug you if I went there is probably moot.).

5. If there HAS to be music at my funeral, please make it Latin chant? Just, just PLEASE don't torture me with the "Yoo Hoo" song at one more stinkin' funeral? You KNOW which song I mean: "YOO HOO dwell in the shelter of the night..." and YES, I do realize that I probably won't be there to punish you with a major haunting if you play that yoohoo song, but you don't know that FOR SURE, so, just to be safe. NO YOO HOO SONG!!!

6. Closed coffin. I don't want people's last sight of me to be in fake makeup and for people to see my chewed up fingernails wrapped lovingly around some rosary that should be left to my kids. Nope, I don't want to be dressed at all and I would PREFER to be cremated but there's no guarantee that every little dust bunny would be buried in sacred ground so bury me in a cheap coffin, no frills, not fluffy satin blankies, no artifacts, no jewelry (I'm not a time capsule, for pete's sake!) and no clothes. I want the worms to do their darndest RIGHT AWAY. No mouldering for years and years. Blech.

7. No leaving trinkets and notes at my graveside. I can't read them. I'm DEAD. I can't touch or enjoy anything left where my stone is placed, so offer it to some living person. I don't even need flowers brought there. Just visit the site to make sure nobody's desecrating it, say "howdy, Laura" and give me a quick wave (if you must) and a prayer. That should do the trick.

8. You may briefly sob and carry on at my funeral. You can go ahead and make a giant posterboard of pictures of me but only if they are at least 80 percent of me making faces or dressed in a funny costume. I want people to remember me as a person who made them laugh, not as some forgettable whiner who wasn't very good at math and who was quite selfish and boring when you really think about it. Also, most of the pictures should be of my kids because they got all of my good features and that's how I'd like to be remembered.

9. I want pall bearers to ACTUALLY CARRY out my sorry carcass. No "honorary" wimps, only real life giant men get to carry my coffin. If you followed rule number 6, it shouldn't be a problem. Yep, that's me! "Light as a feather, stiff as a board!"

(I reserve the right to change my mind and add to this list. I don't expect to keel over anytime soon, I've just been thinking a lot about death since my 38th birthday is coming up. Forty is one foot in it and I've been feeling my mortality lately.)

Wednesday, September 08, 2010


I have been emailing a good friend. I used to babysit for her, back when I was a teenager. Her son has babies and I see him and his family in church. He knows who I am (sort of, I did babysit him when he was in diapers) but my friend recently informed me that her daughter-in-law said they saw me in church and referred to me as "that red-haired lady".


I'm a "THAT"??!!! I am some old, busybody, red-haired, stalker, crazy woman who smiles too much at babies, asks too many nosey questions, and pays too much attention to them in the back of church? That's worse than that skinny usher lady with the bossy demeanor, or that goofy looking usher guy who says the responses too loud, that guy who wears overalls to church, or running/stomping/screaming kid who continues running/stomping/screaming even when they bring her OUT of the sanctuary!!! Come ON! Seriously? Oh, man.

I'm going to introduce myself to them the next time and remind them my name is Laura and maybe invite her over for a visit with her kids.

I just can't be a "that lady".

Oh, and to be fair, guy-who-wears-overalls wears his NICE overalls to church.