Gourds and Funeral Cake

Just got off the phone with my mother, who was telling me about her visit to her family's burial plot -- where my great aunt and uncle (still alive and well) were gleefully showing off their plots, complete with stone markers ("Celtic knots, and none of that flower business," said my mother)... all filled in except for the date.

"You know," I said, "It might be nice if you and dad made out a will so we knew what to do with you if something happened. You know, whether you want to be fried up or stuffed full of chemicals."

My mother responded saying that she wished to stuffed and erected in someone's house, wearing nothing but her black trench coat and a red thong.
Then she asked if she should have a colour theme for her funeral.

"Sure," I said. "We can get some of those nice candied almonds in different colours and give them out as party favours. And we can have funeral cake individually wrapped so people can place it under their pillows..."

"... And dream about their own funerals," chuckled my mum. And laughed. "I kinda like that idea!"

Not that it doesn't break my heart to think that there will come a day when I won't be able to see or talk to my mother ever again... but I'd like to think that when the time comes, I'll be able to look back and smile when I think of her lunatic suggestions for funeral arrangements.

Speaking of people out of their gourds, I bought a mixed bag of them (the gourds, not the people) yesterday.

I have strange fascination with them. Their bright colours, their unusual textures, their unusual shapes. I just find them so aesthetically pleasing.

Sometimes I wonder if Chris is right -- maybe I am a weird fucker.