Tag Archives: friends

death has a home

catholic mortality trading cards

Work’s o.k…. We’re coming up on Xmas week and despite the irons in the fire, I’m not feeling overwhelmed as I’m apt to do.

I got the call the other day from mom that Mary’s (one of her best friends from early-daze who now lives in Miami) mother had died.

I’ve known Mary since I was simply an egg hanging out in my mom’s ovaries in the 60’s. She’s that “super cool friend” of your mom that most men remember from their childhood. Always kind and willing to lavish me with attention – I was completely enamored with her my entire childhood.

Eventhough she’s a mature woman of 50 years, has two children, a successful career nearing retirement, and has made a new life for herself down in Miami – I still see her through 5 year old eyes… The tall midwestern featured hippy girl with long straight blond hair, giggling with my mom as they went to get garlic cheese bread to ward off the munchies. *I’d have to wait until age 30 to find out they used to get high together… Which makes me wonder if I shouldn’t call in a few favors to my friend with the Marinol prescription and invite her over for drinks, The Beetles Yellow Submarine and Cheesy Garlic Bread.

I remember Mary’s mom clearly but I haven’t seen the woman in probably close to 20 years. My reason for going to the funeral was a show of support for Mary. (*and probably a subconscious vendetta to prove to my mother that “YES MOM.. I OWN A FRIGGIN SUIT… “)

It’s been a while since I’ve been to a funeral. This one was at a new place built way out on the fringe of the suburbs.

It appears that Funeral Homes have borrowed from the Movie Theater industry – This place was a “MULTI-PARLOR MEGAPLEX”….

In the Chapel we have Mr. Robert Valdoskez
In Parlor A: Mrs. Emily Sanders
In Parlor B: Mr. Tom Berkschweitz
In Parlor C: The Matrix : Revolutions

The decor was mauvey-neutral-ameridreck-traditional and everything, including the air, had a faint baby powder smell… I guess sometime between last night and the last time I went to a funeral home somebody sent a memo to morticians about the embalming fluid smell.

I saw lots of people I hadn’t seen in over 20 years. I met the flower-girl I walked down the isle with as the ring-barer in Mary’s wedding. (At age 4, I thought “I” was the one getting married)… Wouldn’t had been a bad pick though, she’s grown to an attractive woman of approximately my age… but alas… (*see “I’m a homo” argument – Figure A).

I only approached the body to snag a few prayer cards. It’s a catholic thing and I suspect a great profit making add-on for the home. Iconic little cards with the dearly departed one’s name and a prayer printed on the back.

Older folks seem to snap these up like candy. What do they do with them?
I can only morbidly imagine that they return to their retirement homes and play some sort of grim version of pokéman with them.

My mom caught me slipping the cards into my pocket and she gave me that narrow eyed look and said:

“Don’t tell me.. You’re not going to blog about this.”

tree-like

some assembly required

Another cold nasty day – I worked from home.

Well.. I “tried” to work at least. Mario-Kart is our new crack.

Our friend Carl who’s home is right around the corner from the studio in the city has perma-lent his vintage aluminum christmas tree to us for our first Christmas in the new house.

The whole thing came packaged in a modest 3′ x 2′ x 3′ box. I wondered how in the hell a 7′ tree could come out it… Well.. The answer is ONE FRIGGIN BRANCH at a time.

Chad took to sicking the branches in while Kevin and I marveled over the cheesy-cool color wheel. It’s sticking – so a trip to Radio Shack will be in order soon to buy a little motor and re-engineer our own.

Having trouble finding a place for it… We wound up pulling a chair and sticking it by the window near the fireplace. It’s…. It’s…. well….. very shinny…. Almost hypnotic – but honestly the traditionalist in me has me missing our normal natural tree. My old-fashionedness is checked by my adoration of kitsch.

Note to self:
1) Buy fake pine tree scent spray.
2) Don’t blog about tin monstrosity in living room.

120 grit

restoring denred dust

Sunday’s visit with chrisglass was wonderful – as expected. Purely one of those low maintenance, totally enriching friendships. He had travel / schnogle buddy “Art” in tow – a devastatingly woofy, yet somewhat socially awkward bear man from Kansas City. Chris assured me that he wasn’t bored by the visit.

We leave for Thanksgiving break to spend the requisite family-face-time up north on Friday. Preparing for these trips always makes me a mess professionally, but since going mobile, my nerves are unusually calm.

Probably venting some anxiety about the impending visit with the carnival which is his family, mojobear got a wild hair and tackled the middle bedroom which is to become our library / study / den. Kevin possesses a focus and intensity for anything he tackles which still after years amazes me. It’s important that the folks you choose to spend your life with have qualities you liken to super powers and keep you in awe.

The nice previous owners had seen fit to paint over the gorgeous wood panels and built ins.
Sky blue and white… Pretty nice hu? It cost me hundreds of dollars to have the paint removed – leaving the sanding and re-staining to our own devices.

Eventually – the room’s closet will become built-in bookshelves, an Eames Lounge Chair will grace the corner and some sort of very simple desk, (and Aeron chair of course) will grace the other.

At last – I’ll have a dedicated place to curl up and read… and not-blog.

nose


We’re all a bunch of nosy bitches.. It’s part of our nature as humans. If I maintained a blog – then I’d cite my “read by” and “Friends” list as proof that snarfing around in other people’s things, weather it be their fridge or cranium, is infinitely interesting.

I’ve heard confessions from friends who suffer from the compulsion to peek in other people’s medicine chests when they use the restroom. Telling? Perhaps… But my drug of choice is the refrigerator. I find it much more insightful to see what, (*not who), my friends are putting in their mouths.

Good thing I don’t blog – for none of you will probably ever invite me into your homes.