Two Funerals and a Crockpot

That pretty much sums up my Sunday.

I had my choice of funeral; my cousins' grandmother or my best friend's grandfather.

This was a tough call:

This was Cyn's last remaining grandfather. He had been a preacher, a solid man of God. By the time I had met him, he already had the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and was a man of few words. But he always had a smile on his face and obviously, a hymn in his heart. Cyn was going to sing a song written by her uncle, who had "gone on in" a few years ago. I had really wanted to be there in support.


Mrs. D, the maternal grandmother of my cousins, was also special to me. I had nearly as many memories of her as I did my own grandparents. She was warm and witty. She was the kind of grandma that was always trying to feed you and she made some kickin' chicken and biscuits. She was as much family to me as my family.

I was really torn.

My grandmother pretty much made the call on which funeral to go to. I've kinda become her "date" to family functions. Not bad, but not great either. I spend most of my time fetching things for her, while she tells people about how skinny I used to be. She also has this knack for complimenting me in one breath and cutting me down with the next. One Easter she gushed over how beautiful I looked, and before I could say "thank you," there in front of all her friends, she asked what kind of girdle I was wearing.

She usually makes me drive her Cadillac. Since I drive a mid-size car, it's kinda like driving a tank, pulling a trailer. I'm not sure what makes me more nervous about it; the intimidating size of the vehicle, or my grandmother's back seat driving. I've been driving nearly 30 years now, and I've only had ONE accident (and it wasn't my fault) so I think I know how to do it. It was kinda like being fifteen with a permit all over again. Nervously concentrating on the road while adults shrieked a me. The last time I agreed to start from her house and drive us somewhere, I was a nervous wreck. Apparently I sped all the way ( even though we never made it up to the posted speed limit) and though our nerves might not have, our bodies made it all in one piece. This time, we each drove ourselves, which was fine with me.

Since I wasn't sure how long I would be gone, I decided to put a roast in the crockpot. I might not feel like eating when I got back, but at least my family would be fed.

The service was beautiful, preached by Brother Blair and Mrs. D's son-in-law, my cousin Mark.
I sat with Grandmother and my Aunt Margaret, Mark's mother. I kept waiting for her to ask me what kind of girdle I was wearing, but she only commented on my shoes. She liked them, but added that they really made my feet look small, which believe it or not, is a compliment. ( I wear an 11...it's okay...I own it. Wonder who I inherited them from ;P )

While we waited for the service to open, we discussed what my grandmother was to be buried in, right down to the panty hose. Apparently, there is a law that the deceased had to be buried in a complete set of undergarments and either hose or socks. But no provision for shoes. How weird is that? "No shoes, Never shoes!" my grandmother had exclaimed. Who knew?

The service opened with "In The Garden," which is not only my grandmother's favorite hymn, it was also my Grandma Clara's favorite. Even after dementia had set in, she would hum it. I can not hear it that I don't think of her. And regardless of the setting, it always makes me cry. By the chorus, I was staring at the ceiling and blinking furiously, but the tears still came.

Brother Blair did a nice job, having been Mrs. D's pastor for sixteen years. As my cousin Mark took the pulpit, carrying Mrs. D's Bible, complete with green, quilted Bible cover, trimed in eyelet and bows. He talked about the things he had found when he first opened it on Friday: the old bulletins, the copies of inspirational poetry, the notes in the margins, the passages that were highlighted and underlined. The parts of the Word that spoke to Mrs. D. over a lifetime of believing. Words of faith and hope. From these words came her eulogy, and though Mark spoke the words, it had been written by Mrs. D. herself, all in the margins of her well-worn Bible.

Our faith teaches us that when we take our last breath here on earth, we take our next in Heaven. He had said though we were down here saying "she's gone," the saints in Heaven were saying "She's Here!" That made me think of my grandfather, his siblings and all our other departed loved ones, greeting Mrs. D as she entered Heaven.

After the service, we followed the casket out of the church. It was loaded into the hearse, and as it drove up the drive that wound behind the church into the cemetary, the congregants began climbing the hill to the grave site. I could not imagine having to make that climb myself, in heels, much less supporting my elderly grandmother, also in heels. I was relieved when Margaret suggested that I drive us up to the grave site. The driveway was very narrow to begin with, but the enormous Cadillac made it seem much more narrow. My grandmother kept asking if I knew where I was going.

We stood on the paved driveway, above the grave site, close enough to hear, but still on firm, flat ground. My grandmother clung to my arm for support. She was hunched over, and her weight on my arm made me hunch over too. She had linked arms with Margaret in the other side. I wondered what we must look like, hunched over, linked arm in arm.

I could feel my grandmother's pulse, thruming through the ports in her arm, where the dialysis needles go. My grandfather had been on dialysis the last few years of his life. Though it had extended his life, it limited it all the same. Now my grandmother faced the same limitations.

She is 86. Two years older than Mrs. D. She had told me on my birthday in June that I was now the same age she was when I was born, 43. I wondered how much more time she might have. Or how much more time I would have with her. I felt guilty for being so pesimistic and dwelling on the negatives. There is still time for good memories.

As I drove myself home, I thought about what I'd want for my own funeral. What songs and who would sing them, what I'd be buried in (I think I'm going to ask for socks...can you imagine and eternity in pantyhose?) what would be found in the margins of my Bible.

The smell of roast greeted me as I walked in and it smelled wonderful. I could only imagine how torturous it had been for everyone else during the time I'd been out. I heard my son exclaim "Yeah! She's Here!"

A Perfect Saturday

I just had a near perfect Saturday.

The sun was bright and despite a chilly start, the temperature was a perfect 70 degrees.

We played our last two Miracle League games for the year.

I did have to play "parking patrol" right when I got there, something I really don't like doing. Because we are a facility for special needs individuals, we have several handicap parking spots. Sometimes, people "ignore" the sign, the blue lines, the large wheelchair logo on the ground and park in front of it. Not "IN" it, mind you, but park in such a way that they block access to the spot. I had a woman, who thought she found a primo spot to park, get very upset with me because she had to move from the paved area she had chosen. I pointed out that the spot she had chosen was not actually a parking place. She had parked at the end of the regular spots, and because there was no line on the driver's side of her car, she saw my point and begrudingly moved. The other, a truck sporting a "thin blue line" tag (yes, that means what you think it means) had parked to her left, obstructing the other two handicap spots at the end of the fence. When I complained to one of our own "men in blue" he vowed to locate the driver and have the vehicle moved. I was impressed...it only took 30 minutes.


My sweet little Stephanie, a girl who I had promised to buddy as soon as my foot was better but then went off to spend the summer in Florida with her grandparents, came back to play and immediately claimed me as her buddy. She held my hand tightly, the entire time she was there, like I would get away. She only let go of my hand to bat and then, despite assurances from her mother that she didn't like to, we RAN the bases. I got quite a work out.

While we were playing, a boy and his grandmother walked up. It was evident by the white cane that he carried, that he was blind. I asked if they had ever heard of the Miracle League and the grandmother had responded yes, but they "didn't know how it would work for him." I enthuiastically fetched our beeping ball. We offered to let him take a whack at it, which he did, and ran the bases with one of our buddies, laughing all the way. We may have a new player come Spring!

It was Kamiko's birthday. She's 19. We all sang and she had 2 birthday cakes. We couldn't get any of the candles lit, thanks to a nice little breeze. I hugged her mom, and wished her a happy, "giving birth" day, because that's what I do.

After the games, I wandered around the annual Oktoberfest, where there were arts and crafts, food galore, and demonstrations of everything from cheerleading to cage fighting.
I picked up a few Christmas gifts and came home.

Because I am forbidden to watch an Auburn game ( a jinx I will discuss at a later time) I decided that I needed a mani/pedi, and headed off for Jenny & Steve's. I stopped for a coffee, gathered a book I've been ready and settled in to relax. I even sprung for the super-duper callous remover.

I then treated my son to a Chickfila and picked up a double-hash-browns-all-the-way from the local Waffle House. I topped off my meal with some Blue Bell "Southern Hospitality" ice cream.

Then Auburn won their game against Ole Miss.

I do have loved ones, who have both lost a grandparent in the past 24 hours. Both bedridden from their increasing ailments and suffering from dementia. Strong, God-fearing people, who at long last, get to dance through the Pearly Gates, on streets of gold and meet their Savior, who's name they've never forgotten.

Yeah, I've had some great Saturdays, but this one was, well, perfect.

Hope you En-JOY-ed yours too.

Party at the office!

Woo Hoo! Party at the office!

My office never misses the opportunity to party (i.e. eat!) or dress up!

In honor of Halloween today we've done both. We have a sexy (yet office appropriate) Army officer, a Dolly Parton impersonator, a Lady Gaga impersonator (also, office appropriate, believe it or not, those two concepts could exsit together) , the "Pajama Gang" and me, in my spider hat.

We are noshing on lots of goodies,mainly taco soup and chili.

Happy Halloween Y'all!

~En-JOY!

The Green Eyed Monster

My best friend, partner in crime, voice of reason, yadda-yadda-yadda...is currently at the hospital. Awaiting the birth of her first grandchild.

I know what you are thinking...
Yes, she's younger than me.
Yes, all her natural born children are younger than mine.
Yes my son is dating her oldest daughter.
Don't panic...This would be the baby of her newly acquired step-son and his lovely wife.

Okay...I'm admitting it openly, here. I'm jealous.

All of my friends are becoming grandparents! My classmates are, even those I went to school with who are younger than me. They proudly display their photos and share their cutesy grandparent monikers ( "Ya-Ya, Gi-Gi, Ni-Ni, Mi-Mi, La-La" and so on... ) and brag how they spoil these young-uns rotten, then send them home to their parents to deal with.

I WANT THAT TOO!!

My daughter, Julz, is older than some of these kids, which makes me feel like I might be behind.
I'm kinda on the fence here. While Julz is the obvious candidate, she's not married, or in a stable relationship (come to think of it, I don't even think she's in a relationship). She's working part-time and going to school, so there no where a baby would fit in at this time.

Okay, I realize that people make it work, but I do want her to be in the best position to have and nurture a child.

But for now, I will just have to admire the grandchildren of others

Green Eyed Monster signing off

Bleck!

This is how I feel right now.

And it's NOT from drinking!

At least if it was, I'd have a tangible reason for feeling so puny.

I'd say ~En-JOY, but that would just be cruel.

The View From The Top

Auburn has made it to number one on the BCS poll.

The same spot once occupied by our in-state rivals, that I posted about a few weeks ago (currently at number 7).

Though it may be short-lived, we are enjoying the view from the top.

Everything else is at the tip of a tiger's tail.

En-JOY!

Another Lazy Sunday

I awoke with a head ache and a sore shoulder. I'm not sure if I'm sleeping wrong on it or if a spring is sticking up out of the mattress or what. I go to bed fine and wake up sore and tired.

The sweet sixteen murder mystery party was great! Some key player didnt attend, which challenged our ability to think on our feet, but the venue, the historic Rowan Oaks, was perfect! I have to admit, I was really nervous with everyone tomping around all those antiques, but it really added to the mystery. But I was exhausted when I got home.

The sounds of never-ending football are wafting through the house, so I know without looking, where darling hubby is right now.

Someone is in the shower.

I was going to go to my office today and declutter my cube. You know in the movies when they fire someone, they hand them a little brown box to put their stuff in? If I were ever fired, it'd take me two days and a whole flat of boxes to leave. It really needs to be done when I have a good chunk of time to do it,and that won't be happening in my eight hour work day. That's why I must do it on a weekend, but I feel so bad, I think I'll postpone it.

I'm also putting off buying groceries, but we've got to eat.
Guess I'll go do that.

~En-JOY your Sunday