"Harold quickly calculated the odds of making an ass of himself, in ratio to the amount of time he stayed to chat."

So apparently I was mistaken, we went yesterday to sign papers giving them permission to cremate him, not pick him up. I was honestly very relieved, as we had to go to stupid walmart afterwards and I was Freaking Out about leaving him in the car. I told J about what I was feeling, and he says; “It’d be fine if we left him in the car, it’s not illegal or anything, we can do what we want.” *forehead slap* That’s exactly what I was worried about, the legalities of leaving our son’s ashes in our car while we were in stupid walmart. I do adore that man. So here’s the deal, my people don’t die. Well, except for my babies, but otherwise just about everyone is still alive. My paternal grandfather passed a couple of years ago, but the last time I saw him was when I was maybe 3? My paternal grandmother, maternal grandma, step grandma and grandpa are all alive, shit, my mom’s ex husband’s parents are still alive. I’m not as close to my grandparent’s siblings as my husband is to his, but I’m pretty sure they’re all living as well. (I’m so totally knocking on wood right now.) Of course I don’t think we’re all immortal or anything, but it’s something I’ve been thinking about. The only funeral I’ve ever been to was my husband’s best friend’s grandpa. And that was just at the cemetery. I had no clue what to expect when we arrived there. There was an older woman who took us through the paperwork while I bit the insides of my cheeks and let my mind wander in an effort to not cry; “I can’t believe there’s no fucking Kleenex anywhere around here.” “I wonder if her entire wardrobe is black. Does she wear only black all day every day? I bet she wears like turquoise and pink on the weekend.” “Who the HELL gets a 2 foot urn?!! Where do you put that thing?!” “Is that….dolphins?” “$4000 for a casket you’re going to be cremated in?!!” I look at all of the urns there are to choose from, posters of them displayed in living rooms surrounded by loved ones are on the walls. We decided to wait on the urn. I’m thinking I’d like J to make something, or maybe we can make something together. A wooden box, or out of clay. We both took pottery in high school and didn’t totally suck at it. After we left though, a new fear occurred to me; if we’re waiting, what are they going to give him to us in? If they hand us a Ziploc bag of my kid’s ashes I don’t know what I’m going to do. As we leave I glance down and realize there’s a brightly colored elephant sticker reading “SUPER SHOPPER” on the pocket of my sweater. A nice reminder that G loves me. So, sometime next week we will most likely pick him up. It’d be nice if we could all be home for Christmas I suppose. Conversation from this morning: G; "Daddy ok?" Me; "Daddy's fine, he just went to take the garbage to the dump. Why do you ask? Are you worried about mommy and daddy right now? Are we stressing you out?" G; "I farted." Me; "Umm." *Warning* It’s been quite awhile since we’ve had conversations about what my vagina is up to, but if you remember, they were once quite a regularity. I just wanted to let you know if things don’t move along quickly we’re going to be talking about it again. Or probably even if things do finally proceed as they should. In case that’s not your deal.