Been a bit of a downer with another memorial mass today. It was a beautiful service for a good guy at the UU Church on Elmwood. He had a broad enough reach that the place was literally full to overflowing. I found myself standing on the top step of the choir loft to be inside. He was a pretty good friend who had a great appetite for life and knew just the right wine for the occasion. His sons talked a little and I have tremendous admiration for both young men. They were moving, funny, and very poised in front of what might have been a little over 800 people. I don't know if I could do the same. It was truly a worthy sendoff for a true man of the people. Every service should end with "Into the Mystic." You can let go and be hopeful at the same time, no mean trick that.

Helped a good friend move on Saturday and I'm still paying for it (my rationalization for skipping yoga today). A countless series of laps up and down her three stories, culminated in my lugging up a sideboard. Said sideboard spanked a relief map of what vaguely looks like a relief map of Michigan into my left shoulder. Woke up this morning feeling a little beat up. Walk, snap, crackle, walk, fuck!

Missed the hoo-ha at the 24 to be a good guy. I wanted to be there, but I got dolled up as a zombie to escort my young son and a few cohorts up and down Anderson and Lexington. A nice houseparty followed, complete with a firedancer. That was pretty awesome. Met up with some old friends and staggered home around 12:30 where the Zombie makeup was looking a little too permanent. Don't worry, picture to follow.

Hope everybody had a great one, I'll see you for new year's if not before.

Kind of puts this electoral nightmare in perspective a little bit

As I am sure, the Roswell peeps probably know, Roswell Park does a memorial service for patients who die during a six month period. With my father-in-law's passing back in February, his turn was tonight. My mom-in-law got the invitation a few weeks back and I think was torn a little bit. You want to go, but you don't want to go. I quietly wanted to go for my ex, my mom-in-law, bro, etc, but I had a feeling it would of the vague sort.

We went over together to the auditorium across from the main hospital building. I was a little taken aback by the numbers of people who turned out. Even more shaky was the amount of people in the deaths column. The service was non-demoninational and very-well intentioned. With the exception of a baby with the Krupe and one woman very much still grieving, it was fairly quiet. A children's choir sang quietly as pictures of the loved ones rolled by. It almost reminded me of that moment on the Oscars when they salute the passing of the dead movie stars. Will people applaud when Pop shows up?

Pretty soon, there he was, big as life. A good family friend placed a photo that I worked on for the original memorial service. My Pop was a denture wearer so for his program, I gave him a full set of teeth. Seeing him blown up to fill an auditorium movie screen made me strangely appreciate my digital handiwork while getting teary eyed at the same time. I didn't hear much of anything till the end of the service when we were directed to head out for a "remembrance gift" and refreshments. Nobody felt like crowding in for refreshments.

Afterwords, I hung out at the house with my younger two while their mom took her mom home and retrieved our eldest from a babysitting assignment. It was nice and centering. Homework was done, prepwork for tomorrow was all set and Edward Scissorhands was on the DVD. After skating the highs of finding costume parts, the lows of a misbegotten Zoo event, the high/low of my final Bell's Palsy check-up, the high of getting a raise, and the real low of what I guess was some left over grief, I looking forward to payday and free and easy weekend.

Hoping to get to the party......

More of that socialist propaganda, eh