Christmas coming up. Making gingerbread cookies for the boys, listening in my really nice kitchen with the red tile floor to the Psalms of David in Anglican chant from the King’s College choir. No. 122 comes on (I was glad when they said unto me) and: Oh, lovely! I’ve picked that one out to be sung at my funeral, says my visiting mother.
?
I’m up to swap mothers, if anyone else is.
I had a college roommate who spent most of his free time planning his funeral because he considered it to be the most important event in his (so to speak) life. Go figure.
As I recall, you ran a rather lovely funeral-planning piece yourself in JuPo not so long ago, heh. I’m not against funeral planning in principle, just not that keen on it in the thick of Christmas-with-small-children planning — and I’d much rather it wasn’t my own mother indulging in it. Mutter grumble whine.
Yes, but mine at least was simple. My roommate’s started with:
First, rent the National Cathedral; then hire the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.
enjoyed the picture you painted here.
scott
http://www.poetry-is.blogspot.com
My mother wanted to make her mother bring her own plate to Christmas dinner because my mother was angry that my grandmother “faked” having a blod clot in her leg “just to get attention,” which caused us to abandon the turkey in the oven in order collect her from the emergeny room.
I’m willing to do with swap if you take both of them.
Let’s set up a trading website: http://www.swapmoms.com. We could probably make a bundle, heh.
Hmm, interesting idea. And it appears the domain name may not be taken.
Offering to swap my mom on said web site might be exactly what it take to push her over the edge.