Even In Death, Life Goes On

Just a short note today. Thank you, everyone, for your comments, and for your thoughts if you did not know how to respond. We had a bit of an icy interlude last night, and school was called off at 8:00 p.m. Who do you have to know around here to use a sick day? My vast collection remains virtually untouched.

Sis and I were busy today traipsing across the county, putting things in order. We almost gave the counter girl at the bank a slipped disc, hernia, and broken toe by asking to inspect Mom's safe deposit box. Actually, it was the other counter lady who did that to her, what with saying that she'd just had surgery, and couldn't lift more than ten pounds. Oh, this was more than ten pounds. Yeah, buddy! Let's just say that my dad was abit of a coin collector. I felt sorry for that counter lady. Not because of her unnamed surgery, but because, when Sis told her why we were there, and slid the deposit slip across the counter to her, she gasped and teared up. "Oh, no! THAT was your mom? We loved her!"

We have all the arrangements in place. Mom had spent the last two years putting her finances in order, so we should not have to deal with the courts, but only take over the accounts Mom had put in our names. She was a sensible woman, my mom...except when it came to people parking in her driveway.

The ex-mayor bawled like a baby, and Hick shed a couple of low-liquid tears (due, I am sure, to his lifelong fondness for soup without the juice) yesterday as events unfolded. Tonight at the visitation, I must assure the ex-mayor that we will, indeed, have our car washed when we get to town tomorrow, so as not to embarrass him during the funeral procession.

We had planned on it all along, but I was reminded how important that would be to them when Sis walked past T-Hoe as we entered the cemetery office, and asked, "Do you have cats?"

Yes. Four. Though by the footprints on T-Hoe's black hood, you might think it was a dozen.