movement of leaves
Oct. 13th, 2004 02:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
threeplusfireWhen we're busy, it's alright. It's when we stop moving that everyone starts wandering in circles and breaking up.
This morning Alan and I went out for some strong coffee, to a place he frequented a lot back in the day. When I stepped inside I thought I had died and gone to coffee shop heaven. Who would have thought the most perfect little place in the world was hidden in Bryan Texas? It's called Sweet Eugene's House of Java, and it is exactly the kind of coffee shop I've always wanted. they have a chalk board full of house specialties, fresh baked goods, a patio shaded by a big old tree, comfy chairs, clubby leather armchairs and couches, a room lined with bookshelves crammed with reading material of all kinds, and just that feeling that everything is exactly alright. I'm in love. I'll never meet another coffee place I like half so much. I had a white chocolate raspberry truffle espresso and a cranberry scone. It was the biggest and best cup of coffee I've ever had, and only $4.
This afternoon has been taken up with funeral arrangements. I never ever ever fucking want to be in a funeral home again. Ten grand to put you in a beautiful wood box and wrap you in steel and put you in the ground. What a waste of beautiful wood. I made Alan promise me over and over that he would never put me in a box like that. I understand the purpose of funerals, and especially in this situation where August Nowak was a pillar of the community and so well known that you pretty much have to have one. But the whole thing makes me want to retch. They have warranties on those caskets! One of the ghouls, ahem funeral directors, said I would be surprised by what I might need that warranty for and I shuddered at her expression.
Of all the funerals I've attended in my life, not once has there ever been a casket and most certainly not an actual corpse. I'm dreading that moment more than you can imagine.
Just in case we're not clear, I don't want anything like this. Shoot anyone who tries to put me in a coffin. I'm going to be a diamond instead, or ashes sent out into space. But gods above don't bury me in one of those shiny scary boxes.
The preacher will be here in a little bit, and the family is starting to gather. Later we're going to drive home, to get clothes and feed the cat. I called out of work for the both of us, as we get three days of bereavement leave from the company with pay and we might as well use them. No renfaire this weekend for us. just a lot of coffee and food that no one really thinks to eat but gets brought anyways.
I keep starting to cry, but I stop and I don't know what to say.
This morning Alan and I went out for some strong coffee, to a place he frequented a lot back in the day. When I stepped inside I thought I had died and gone to coffee shop heaven. Who would have thought the most perfect little place in the world was hidden in Bryan Texas? It's called Sweet Eugene's House of Java, and it is exactly the kind of coffee shop I've always wanted. they have a chalk board full of house specialties, fresh baked goods, a patio shaded by a big old tree, comfy chairs, clubby leather armchairs and couches, a room lined with bookshelves crammed with reading material of all kinds, and just that feeling that everything is exactly alright. I'm in love. I'll never meet another coffee place I like half so much. I had a white chocolate raspberry truffle espresso and a cranberry scone. It was the biggest and best cup of coffee I've ever had, and only $4.
This afternoon has been taken up with funeral arrangements. I never ever ever fucking want to be in a funeral home again. Ten grand to put you in a beautiful wood box and wrap you in steel and put you in the ground. What a waste of beautiful wood. I made Alan promise me over and over that he would never put me in a box like that. I understand the purpose of funerals, and especially in this situation where August Nowak was a pillar of the community and so well known that you pretty much have to have one. But the whole thing makes me want to retch. They have warranties on those caskets! One of the ghouls, ahem funeral directors, said I would be surprised by what I might need that warranty for and I shuddered at her expression.
Of all the funerals I've attended in my life, not once has there ever been a casket and most certainly not an actual corpse. I'm dreading that moment more than you can imagine.
Just in case we're not clear, I don't want anything like this. Shoot anyone who tries to put me in a coffin. I'm going to be a diamond instead, or ashes sent out into space. But gods above don't bury me in one of those shiny scary boxes.
The preacher will be here in a little bit, and the family is starting to gather. Later we're going to drive home, to get clothes and feed the cat. I called out of work for the both of us, as we get three days of bereavement leave from the company with pay and we might as well use them. No renfaire this weekend for us. just a lot of coffee and food that no one really thinks to eat but gets brought anyways.
I keep starting to cry, but I stop and I don't know what to say.
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Hay… just dropping a line…
Date: 2004-10-13 03:57 pm (UTC)Re: Hay… just dropping a line…
Date: 2004-10-13 07:37 pm (UTC)