Archive for October, 2011

Sharing Time (Part One)

October 17, 2011

Huh.  Guess that story “that won’t keep for a week,” could keep for a week after all.

Go figure.

Let me start by saying that last week was a week of vacation for this household, (which turned out to be more like a “vacation” with ironic quotation marks for me, of course, but everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves, which really was a good thing.)  Someone we knew didn’t have time for their timeshare, so we took advantage of their misfortune and pre-spent money (with their blessing, of course), and took their place at the resort.  Now this sort of thing happens a lot with people who own timeshares, which is one of the many reasons I am . . . less than enamored with timeshares.

“Still,” I told myself, “this won’t be too bad.  At least I won’t have to sit through any infernal (and infamous) ‘timeshare presentation pitches.'”

I was busy Bu-wrangling, while his mother (who’d seen to the details of this vacation), checked us in.  When she pranced out requesting some cash to sign us up for “something fun,” I was distracted enough I just nodded and handed over the money.

It was when she pranced out again that I realized said “something fun,” involved a “gift” . . . a “gift” we would receive after sitting through a timeshare presentation pitch.

The money was, of course, non-refundable.

So No Weapons (But I May Bring a Bruiser Or Three)

October 14, 2011

For those who were curious, I did make my toast to my aunt last night, and it is my understanding that today is the day she is to be buried with her parents back in her hometown.

I hope that goes well.

You see, when my grandmother (my aunt’s mother) was being buried, more than one person had the audacity to approach my mother and inquire what she intended to do with the land my grandmother owned.  I assure you the land’s only real value is sentimental, but in small towns, the idea of land is sometimes worth more than say . . . not asking such an idiotically rude question while someone is burying their mother!

Ahem.

Truth be told, when my mother told me this story, I remember weighing the relative merits of being obviously armed on the day it comes time to bury my own mother, just to make it as clear as possible that such questions of me will not be welcome.  I eventually rejected the idea under the premise that while anybody stupid enough to ask me such a question under those circumstances deserves what they get, the temptation for me to actually use the weapon might prove too great, and I didn’t need to do jail time just because somebody else was an idiot.  It was a tough call, but I knew I’d made the right decision after mentioning this idea to a family member who shall remain nameless, and they asked (quite earnestly) what I would do if it were family asking about the land on the day I buried my mother.

I remember being horrified enough by the question (and the very idea), that without thinking I blurted out, “I’d reload . . . just to be sure.”

To Summers Past

October 13, 2011

Part of me feels like I should get on with telling that story I mentioned on Monday; it’s funny and I want to tell it.  (It wasn’t that funny at the time, mind you, but now that it’s over I can chuckle about it.)

But it’s hard for me to do funny on the day of a funeral.  I couldn’t attend my aunt’s funeral in person, so I’m trying to figure out an appropriate way to mark the day from where I’m at.  Even as a typed that, I was stymied as to what I should do, but then it came to me:

When my grandfather (her father) died, I raised a toast to his life.  When my grandmother (her mother) died, I did the same thing.  It seems only appropriate I do the same for my aunt even though I don’t recall a time she and I shared a drink together.  In an odd way, it seems even more appropriate as a final farewell because she and I never shared a drink together.

I just need to pick up the ice cream and soda.

(Yes, I toast that side of my family with Coke floats.  Coke floats were always our “thing” at the old house during the summer.)

Condolences

October 12, 2011

That story I mentioned on Monday will just have to keep another day. Right now I wanted to share the nicest condolence I received regarding yesterday’s post:

“I just read your C&C, and I don’t know how appropriate it is, but I shed a tear for you and your family.”

And to that I just wanted to say that while I don’t personally need your tear, some of my family really do right now, so on their behalf I thank you.

Goodnight, Shirley

October 11, 2011

The story I mentioned yesterday will have to wait one more day though.  My mother’s sister died this morning.

We all generally knew this news was coming, but even so, hearing the news today still managed to be more than a bit of a shock, particularly for Mom.  Via the wonders of the Information Age, I found out pretty soon after it happened, so I gave Mom a quick call to find out if she’d heard.  As soon as she picked up the phone, I knew.

She had.

For numerous reasons, the phone call was brief, and when Mom’s emotions started to get the better of her, she told me that was her sign that it was time to say “Goodnight, Gracie.”  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me, murmured a quiet “Goodnight, Gracie,” and let her go because that was the best thing I could think of to do.

It still is.

Goodnight, Shirley.

This candle’s for you.

Sharing Time (Prelude)

October 10, 2011

Knowing my attention would be largely occupied this week, over the weekend I drafted out a series of posts regarding my grandfather.   (It’s a lot more fun than it might sound.)

So naturally, on Sunday I ran face first into a story worth telling that won’t keep for a week.

More on that tomorrow when I have more time.

That . . . Didn’t Help (PG-13ish For Saucy Innuendo)

October 7, 2011

The other night a friend of mine was trying to remember the name of the Irish girl he meet in Hawaii.  (And no, I’m not making this up.)

“Fitz . . . something or other,” he said.

“FitzPerfectly?” I suggested less than helpfully.

“FitzEverybody?” someone else suggested even less helpfully than I.

“Yeah, yeah, FitzLikeAGlove,” he snickered, making it clear he’d heard all this before.  (He used to live in Ireland.)  “Wait, I remember!” he exclaimed.

(Wait for it.)

“Fitzgibbons!”

Subtle Signs

October 6, 2011

You may be experiencing discontent with your business arrangement when (as I did yesterday) you find yourself filing the latest invoice you received under “Final Insult.”

No Lie, No Joke

October 5, 2011

Take my word for it, son, the worthwhile ones always want you to tell them the truth when they ask you how they look in something.  Yes, they also want you to be diplomatic, and that is definitely the wrong time to try out your latest and greatest fat joke, but they really do want the truth.

Ignore what you see in sit-coms.  If it doesn’t suit her, then tell her that when she asks.

My Reaction Upon Learning Of The Existence Of Vegetarian Haggis

October 4, 2011

When you get to the point of wanting to eat meatless entrails, maybe . . . just maybe vegetarianism isn’t for you.

(And for those who don’t know, this is what haggis is.)