funeral girl???

2010-09-28T16:10:00.001-07:00

another job interview. It didn't feel great. I've had a few interviews now. Two jobs i got, two i didn't. Two jobs that didn't last very long. Felt fairly confident until today's interview. I'm old and I'm too experienced and i cost too much. I'd work cheap, honest, and i'd still do a good job. Sigh...

remodeling blahs

2010-09-27T10:45:00.000-07:00

i'm tired of remodeling now. My dining room table is in my kitchen. It doesn't fit in my kitchen. My dining room is empty. My living room is full of tools and wood, no furniture, it's now our upstairs garage. I'm tired of it now. It'll be fine again tomorrow. But today, i just want a house back. Instead i have to texture the wall, install a tile fireplace surround, then tomorrow paint the damn wall. Enough. I'm ready to move to a new house where someone else brought it from 1970 to present.

heck, by the time we're done, it'll be time to start over again. enough.

a whole lot o' nothing

2010-03-26T10:20:00.000-07:00

Still not working. Am I employable at all? I send my resume, I call folks, I smile. No one cares, no one that could give me a livable wage anyway. Frustrating. And embarrassing.

In the meantime, I've emptied my daughter's room (she's a freshman at college this year), scraped the popcorn ceiling, retextured, and painted. Today I'm heading to a BIG fabric store to get fabric for curtains and a couple throw pillows. I'm making her room a guest room/toy room for the grandkids. It's a challenge making it kid friendly, but also grown up. Kind of fun, but kind of sad that no kids live at home anymore. It's my daughter's spring break this week, and it was pretty hard to get a read on how she feels about the "new" room. Guess that's okay, cuz I have mixed feelings about it too.

Yesterday, I ran/walked for six miles. It was fun and very encouraging feeling. Today, my legs are a little sore, which I love! I'm not gonna run today, but I will (at some point) do some situps and other toning exercises. Since when did I get those little flappys on my arms??? Oh my!

Time to clean my office. Grr. It's become a storage room, while re-doing the other bedroom, and now I need to dig in and put stuff away. Sigh... :)

Adult children

2010-01-24T14:36:00.001-08:00

...are so much harder to be the parent of than small children. Especially once they have husbands, wives, partners, and then those in laws don't get along. More pain in a mother's heart than there needs to be. More pain in a son's heart than there needs to be. It's just very sad.

New Year

2010-01-20T09:45:00.000-08:00

In December, an envelope came in the mail. My husband made a big deal of it, which of course, I liked. He video taped me opening it, gave a little announcement. Ta-da! Associate's Degree! Woot-woot. lol. One more thing to cross off my to-do list before I die. Next up, Bachelor's. It, however, will need to wait for me to go back to work and replenish some savings.

I've been so blessed that for the last year we've been able to afford (sort of) for me to not work (except that short stint at the plant nursery) and just focus on school. Now it's time to work again and it leaves me somewhat nervous. Who will hire me? What do I really have to offer? All those questions come into play.

Monday, I left Mito, Japan at 10:30 in the morning. I took a two hour bus to the airport in Narita, then a two hour wait for my flight, then an eight and a half hour flight, and I got home at 7:30 the same morning! Crazy. I got to go with Steve over there. He goes several times a year to his factory, well not his, but to the company's factory, and we'd tried to work it out so that our schedules coincided and I could join him. It was my graduation present! And birthday, anniversary, Christmas...

We were in Tokyo for a few days, then to Mito where he went to work and I explored on my own. I'd thought I'd update this blog while I was there, but I didn't.

It was an amazing adventure. Really like nothing I'd experienced before.

Right now, though, I'm drinking my first cup of coffee since I got home. I didn't want the caffeine the last couple days, but now I'm enjoying its yummy goodness. For a few minutes. Then I have to update my resume and become an adult again. I've lived in this in-between place for the last year and now I need to earn my keep again.

Frankly, I'm terrified.

Walking

2009-10-29T16:05:00.000-07:00

So, I started out great with my friend Tracy. Walking three or four times a week for four miles each time. That little ipod thing will not measure correctly no matter how I recalibrate it. It consistently says 4 actual miles = 3.3 ipod miles. Anyway, it's not really the point (unless you can help me fix it). Then Steve's dad had a stroke and I went to their house for a week, no walking. Then I came home and had back issues and started my final term of community college (well, as long as I pass physics!) So again, no walking. This morning Tracy and I walked our four miles and then I forgot to stop the ipod, so it measure another ten minutes while I stood at her kitchen counter eating figs that I stole from someone's tree. I've been waiting forever for them to get ripe! Yumm-0! I have lost no weight, while Tracy has lost about twenty pounds. Maybe because she kept walking, while I slacked. Maybe I'll set my alarm early and go before class tomorrow. I have to do something. I feel like such a slug.

Butternut Squash Ravioli with Orange-Ginger Sauce

2009-10-17T16:12:00.000-07:00

I'm like a chef or something! :)

Mostly I just enjoy reading recipes, but this one I did try and it was pretty good. No house fires, no bleeding appendages. Just a jet-lagged husband who didn't care what I was feeding him. Always a bonus when trying new dishes.

Ok, I took pictures, but then I realized it's just as hard to take good food pictures as it is to make good food!

Here's the butternut squash and (ground) hazelnut filling. Doesn't look so appetizing in the picture, huh?

Then I made the pasta dough and rolled it through that little machine:

Here's what all the raviolis looked like as they were drying:
Close-up, because I know you care:

Ta-da! The final product! That's sage and shaved parmesan cheese on top, actually it's a different hard cheese that cost a lot, but didn't taste much different than parmesan and it had a name I can't remember, so I'm calling it parmesan.

You didn't know you were now reading a cooking blog. LMAO.

Cleveland airport, aka old stuff I forgot to post

2009-10-01T19:40:00.000-07:00

We’re now in Cleveland and the airport is kind of a rathole. That’s my favorite word for icky places. Rathole. One time Steve and our youngest daughter, Tayler, and I stayed in a Holiday Inn in midtown NYC and it was a huge rathole. His brother suggested it. He may have received some sick pleasure in sending us there, I don’t know. I remember sleeping there during the day, while Steve and Tayler went swimming in a rooftop pool. I had heatstroke from being in the city in the damn summer!
Anyway, now we seem to be in a rathole in Cleveland. We’re waiting in a lounge area till the shuttle takes us to the convention. Steve thought the lady meant to wait in a nearby bar (when she clearly said, "waiting lounge"), so he was looking for somewhere that served drinks! Ha. She meant a seating lounge from the 70s. I don’t know what he’s whining about, as it seems to me I was the one in coach on the flight from Atlanta to here! Not even in the bulkhead. What the heck? He stretches as we meet in the waiting area, “How was your flight?” Snot.
He’s reading over my shoulder. Actually he’s trying to get my hair back in its barret. This stupid thumb does not lend itself to grooming. In the Atlanta airport, I was in the women’s room trying to safety pin my top as it’s too low-cut and I was tired of hanging out. Well, it’s almost impossible to pin anything with a big ole thumb, so finally a lady was laughing and said she could help me if I want. So she pinned my shirt. I should have asked her to fix my hair too! The barret is now in my pocket as Steve couldn’t make it work and neither could I. Oh well.
It’ll be time for the shuttle soon. I hope the hotel is good.

More Cooking

2009-10-01T06:55:00.000-07:00

Still in Atlanta, still waiting, ho hum... Okay more cooking with Noelle...

Sunday I made chili. It was okay.
Monday I made double stuffed chicken breasts out of Rachel Ray’s October magazine. They were pretty good, well, except actually they were chicken thighs as the store didn’t have breasts with skin on, but it still tasted very good. I’d make it again.
Tuesday I made mozzarella stuffed pork chops (Rachel Ray again). Another hit!
Yesterday, chicken curry, cooked in the crockpot, since I’d be in school most of the day. I’d cut up the chicken the day before and had all my ingredients ready. I just had to cut up the sweet potato before my first class. Dumped in the chicken. Dumped in the sweet potato. Decided to cut up half an acorn squash too since it needed to be used. What I learned is that acorn squash doesn’t peel as quickly as sweet potato and I was short on time and going too fast. Now I’m short on thumb! Lol. Somehow I peeled the top of it right off, fingernail and all. I wrapped a towel around it and went to get Steve. I very calmly said, “Could you help me?” I think he pulled every bandage and accompanying tape we owned out of the cupboard, even some plumbers tape he found with the meds. He poured on the hydrogen peroxide. I asked for a chair. I can watch an autopsy repair but take off the tip of one of my own fingers and I get faint. What the heck? I don’t even know where the tip went, but don’t tell Steve. It all tastes like chicken, right? Gross.
So he bandaged me up; I went to the bathroom to get sick; and he apparently stayed in the kitchen to photograph the cutting board and medical supplies. Always an opportunist! Then I still had to finish throwing together the curry before heading to school. After class, I stopped by the health services department, where a soon-to-be nurse made me cry again as she undid Steve’s handiwork. She clucked her tongue as we both realized his bandage was stuck in the cut. It hurt almost as much as the first time. She butterfly bandaged me, wrapped me up and sent me to my next class. Throbbing thumb, huge bandage. Nice.
All in all, I think it was a pretty successful wifely week. Five cooking attempts yielded two pretty good meals (well, three if you count Muchas Gracias!) Not bad, I’d say. Well, I’ll probably score it higher in a few weeks...after my thumb heals.

Cooking

2009-10-01T06:50:00.000-07:00

October 1, 2009
Sitting in the Atlanta airport, waiting for a flight to Cleveland. Last year we got to go to Rome for a Retrouvaille (marriage group we do) convention, this year: Cleveland. Really? Not that there’s anything wrong with Ohio, I’ve never even been there, but let’s see, Italy or Ohio? Hmm… Not a hard choice for where I’d rather go.
So, my thumb is bandaged and looks about twice the size it should be. It’s not twice the size but the bandage is big so I don’t thump it on something. I wanted to be a homemaker kind of wife this past week and cook dinner for Steve each night. It went okay, but could have been better.
It started last Thursday when I took a whole chicken out of the freezer to cook on our BBQ’s rotisserie. I thawed it overnight in the fridge, in an awesome marinade. Friday afternoon, I reached into the freezer bag to take it out and put it on the rotisserie-turner-pole-thing and my hand came back with a chicken breast. Then another. Then another. What??? It turned out not to be a whole chicken after all, but twelve breasts frozen into a lump! There are two of us, what the heck do we need twelve breasts for? Who even put that many in one freezer bag???
So, I dejectedly put the chicken on the preheated BBQ and went back inside to chop up some potatoes for boiling. As I stood over the kitchen sink, I could smell the chicken on the grill. That didn’t seem right, as it’d only been a couple minutes. Then I realized smoke was coming into the window and it was black. So I rushed outside where I could see flames on the inside of the grill. I’m not talking a little BBQ flame, but a full-on FIRE! I opened the lid, NOT SMART, and the flames roared. I shut the lid and hurriedly turned off the gas, terrified the whole time that my head was gonna catch on fire or the darn thing was just going to blow up. I called my girlfriend and asked could I throw flour on it. She said yes. Run back upstairs into the house and get the canister. Throw on a handful. Whoosh! Yeah, that worked well. Obviously it needed more flour. So, I threw on lots of handfuls, but they just burned up instantly. I called my girlfriend back, “It’s not working. The fire’s bigger, can I spray it with the hose?” “No, what if that spreads it because of the gas.” “I already turned the gas off, I better get the fire extinguisher.” I run to the garage and come back prepared. Pull out the red plug, squeeze the trigger, and NOTHING. Absolutely nothing. I look at the canister trying to determine if there are further instructions, how hard can it be to put out a fire? Then I realized there was a gauge, which read, “Recharge”. Great. I’m seriously thinking of calling 9-1-1. The grill is against the house and I’m terrified the house will catch fire. Black smoke is rolling from the grill and up and over our house. It’s two stories high! The children next door are starting to climb their play structure to look over the fence. I open the lid one more time and realize the chicken is almost burnt out and the flames are getting smaller. I throw on some more flour, just for effect. After about twenty more minutes the fire is out; the grill is black, no longer shiny metal; my whole house smells like smoke, and now, only now, I start to shake like a leaf. About this time, Steve calls to say he’s on his way home and, “hey, what’s going on with you?”
I have to confess. Swiftly, without hesitation. There’s no time to cover this up. Plus, now there’s no dinner, just small, black, hard lumps on a sooty grill. Oh my. It takes about five seconds before his chuckling begins. Just another day in the life of my cooking adventures. I ask if he thinks I should water down the side of the house now that the flames are out. He says yes. The water hits the siding and sizzles, smokes, pops its way up the wall. This was hotter than I realized. It takes a good five minutes for the house to stop smoking. Now I’m really shaking, so I go inside to “rest” till Steve gets home. He looks at me as he walks in the door, verifies that I’m okay, then looks out the back door and laughs. I get no respect, I tell ya. None, whatsoever!
He took me to dinner at my favorite Mexican place. Muchas Gracias, kind of authentic fast food. Yumm-O! But I really was looking forward to that rotisserie chicken…

2009-09-09T08:46:00.000-07:00

According to WikiAnswers:

A cubic foot of top soil weighs in the neighborhood of 75 - 100 pounds. There are 27 cubic feet in a cubic yard. Hence, one cubic yard of top soil weighs between 2025 and 2700 pounds.

A cubic foot of dry, loose gravel with 1/4" to 2" stones is 105 pounds per cubic foot. So, a cubic yard is that times 27, or 2835 lb. (There are 27 cubic feet in a cubic yard.)

The weight of any soil will depend on how saturated it is with water. A rule of thumb is that a cubic foot of saturated loamy soil weighs about 20 pounds. Saturated clay would be heavier because it is denser than loam.

According to Noelle's back:

Four yards of wet soil & gravel (10,800 pounds) removed by hand, approximately one-fourth by Noelle's hand: 2700 pounds. 2700 pounds by friend Dave. 5400 pounds by 21-yr-old neighbor, who surprisingly didn't want to help the second day. Lol.

Four yards of wet soil & gravel returned to the hole after water pipe repair and a day of leak-checking: approximately 2/3 by Noelle: 7200 pounds. 1/3 by Dave: 3600 pounds. I was the second day's manual laborer, while Dave did the hard stuff, like tamping the dirt back in while moving it back into the hole also, replanting, rebuilding the retaining wall, not to mention the actual repair itself on the first day!

What a reminder to me of how dependent we are on other people for our sustenance. I just finished reading Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank from 1959. An absolute must read! It's about living in a post-nuclear-war world, and one of their things to contend with was water. I guess then having no water for an entire twenty-four hours made me think about what would happen if we suffered some catastrophic event. Maybe I better go out and buy some salt, while it's still cheap!

Seriously, sometimes I forget how blessed I am to have water that comes from multiple faucets inside my house. My house! It's regular sized, a couple thousand square feet, not a big house compared to what gets built today, but folks all over the world would give anything to live in what I regularly refer to as the dump, because I'd rather have a one-level newer house that isn't constantly taking all our money for maintenance. How spoiled I am!

Steve is glad I'm taking science classes (yes, -es, I saved three of them to the very end, it sounded good at the time...grr..) instead of philosophy this term. He's laughingly tired of me questioning everything about our existence.

I guess it was just a water leak and I don't need to get too weirded out by it, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to also recognize how much we have in this country and to be grateful for it.

2009-09-01T09:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to my old funeral homes to visit and to pick up price lists. A friend's dad is elderly and ill and they asked me to help them figure out what they need to do. It kind of excited me to think of actually being needed and of actually having value. It's one thing I've realized in the past year of not working, no one needs me. My kids are grown and they hang out with me, but they don't need me. I have no coworkers depending on me to do my share. My husband has his work. The marriage group we work with functions fine without me, even though I like to think I make a difference. My girlfriend, Tracy, who I'm walking with, doesn't even miss me if i'm gone. I'm heading to Steve's office in CA tomorrow afternoon, so T already made a different walking date! I was like, hey, I'm not even going till one, and by the way can you take me to the airport?

Anyway, it was very fun to visit yesterday. The first place I worked is dark and kind of dreary, so it wasn't super great to visit, also I think the office manager doesn't really like me coming there. She's my replacement and i think it took her a while to figure everything out, so I think she thinks I'm judging the job she's doing, which I'm totally not. As why would I possibly care. Plus Skip wasn't there embalming, well, no one was embalming, which was a little weird. Bodies don't embalming themselves, you know. Actually, I didn't even see a body, come to think of it. Guess they weren't kidding when they said it'd been a slow month. I said, don't worry, the weather's cooling off, you just need a week of solid rain. "Don't I know it! A good stormy week and they'll be banging down the door!", Chris drawled with his heavy Southern twang.

So then I went to the last funeral home I worked for, it was the first time i'd been since they let me go. I called my buddy, Don, and said I wanted to stop by to get a price list. He was super excited and told me to come on in. It was only a little weird for a second to think about going in. I sure miss working there. So, long story short, the office manager got laid off about a month or so ago and last week the general manager got shipped to another location. (The location, managers go before they're fired.) So, Don is now the manager. Of course, I immediately asked for my job back, but they finally made the wise decision that they don't need three directors and a manager and an office manager and a receptionist. So the receptionist is now the office manager/receptionist and Don is the general manager/funeral director. They'll be running with four people instead of six and have a much better chance of being profitable. The two people who were incompetent are now gone and had I just ducked my head and gone with the flow I'd still be there and it would be a crazy fun place to work. I wonder will I ever learn? Well, I think I am learning, but it seems to be coming pretty dang slowly. I'm ready to go back to work now. It'll be nice to talk to our friend's parents about their funeral plans, it'll be nice to be needed for a few minutes.

We went camping for a couple nights last week, and I realized my kids are grown. The youngest is going to college this month. My oldest grandson starts school today, well kindergarten. My oldest boy will be 26 this month. At some point, time slipped up and got away from me and I guess I'm feeling a little melancholy or something. I just don't know what my purpose is right now. Well, right this moment, it's to do some painting downstairs. We painted window and door trim over the weekend, so now I have to touch up the walls, where we were a little, uh, messy.

That's it. The walls need me.

Sigh...

Walking/ Running/ Living

2009-08-25T13:19:00.000-07:00

I started walking with a girlfriend. We're walking four miles three or four times a week. I bought my daughter's old iPod from her (hmm, how does that work? Pay for kid's stuff twice?) Anyway, I started using it today to track the walking through nikeplus.com. I'm hoping to add running back into my days at some point too. Mostly I think it's okay with my head now to run again. It was someting I cut out a few years back. Now I'm ready to not be chunky, but to feel okay in my own skin again. Steve says he'll join a challenge with me and then we can maybe both get back into shape again. It would sure be nice. Each time I've re-started running, my head goes to this weird place and I've stopped. Self-punishment, self-destruction, self-loathing, self-something. I don't know. I do know I'm tired of it. I'm tired of not thinking it's okay to feel okay. I'm tired of not liking how I look in the mirror. I'm tired of being physically tired, because I'm so out of shape. Time for some changes. I hope to show progress publically, so that I'm motivated to continue.

I'm supposed to be contacting the local university this week, as I'll finish at the community college in the fall and then will move on towards a bachelor's degree. Woo-hoo. I might just make it by the time i'm 50! :)

It's been interesting going to school again. I could totally just be a student for the rest of my life. Somehow, I'm thinking it's not in our budget though. I need to get motivated to find some kind of scholarship or something though, as I'm feeling pretty guilty about costing Steve so much money. What an awesome gift he's given me. What an awesome man I share my life with. It's incredible really.

There doesn't seem to be a reason for this post, just blabbing, which even I won't care to read later on. I'll hush now.

I saw a ghost today

2009-07-14T22:00:00.001-07:00

Today I was sitting in my car in the parking lot at school and reading about ways to prove or disprove the existence of God. The argument isn't whether he exists or not, the argument is how to prove or disprove in the most effective manner. Anyway, that has nothing to do with anything. The driver's seat was pushed back, my legs stretched out, book open across the steering wheel, when a young person walked between my car and the one right beside me. I hadn't heard or seen him approaching, and I would have because he came from in front of me, from the next parking lot. He had to cross through the median and it's crunchy from leaves and bark dust. No sound, even with my windows rolled down. I glanced in the side mirror and he was already gone. I turned around and looked, gone. I looked up and down the row of cars. No one. It was totally weird and totally cool. I don't know that he was really a male, but I got that impression. I found myself wishing he would've gone slower and maybe I could have had a better look. Really, I'm not entirely positive it even happened. Although, i'm not saying it didn't, as it did. But it was just weird. Not weird in a bad way, just different. I rather liked it. I guess I kinda miss dead people.

Weight loss

2009-07-14T21:45:00.000-07:00

None.

I'm taking an Interpersonal Communications class and we have to set some communication goals. So one of my goals is to lose fifteen pounds. What does that have to do with communication? Well, part of my strategy was to track my weight loss publicly. I was going to put it on our "family" blog, but decided against that, as I don't need endless ribbing. Not that I'd get it, but I've seriously been saying I want to lose weight for the past couple years and I've not done it. So, I'm going to get one of those Nike/Ipod things that go in your shoe and then you get to make a little person who looks kind of like a Mii, but that little person will track my runs and I can attach it to this blog. I have to figure out how to do all this, well I guess I could just ask Steve, but I'd rather try it myself first. Well, technically I guess first I have to get a different Ipod as mine isn't a touch so it's not compatible with the nike thing, and then I have to get the nike thing, but not the nike shoes, because I'm so not a fan of their shoes. But I read you can put the little chip on your shoelace, so that's what i'll try.

A few years back, a buddy and I tracked our running mileage versus our weight and it really encouraged me to want to see the mileage rise and weight fall. So I'll also figure out how to attach a chart to this blog.

So, my goal is to lose fifteen pounds. But my real goal is to recognize the power of communication in setting and achieving that goal. So here goes...

where am i going with this blog?

2009-07-12T15:40:00.001-07:00

I so don't know what to do with this blog anymore. The writer (writer???) in me wants to continue writing...something... but the realist in me recognizes that i don't have much of interest to write about. And what i do find interesting, i probably can't write, because it probably is about our marriage group or about my anger management group. They are hilarious, the angry ladies. We continued meeting together weekly, even though we finished our anger class. Now we're doing a book called Choosing to Forgive, and we named ourselves Steel Magnolias. Well, i didn't choose that name and i didn't even vote for it, but it didn't matter. One husband said, it's more like lead-in-the-ass magnolias, which is probably somewhat true. Mostly i just refer to them as magnolias. My family has already accepted the name and hopefully no longer think i'm totally weird by having a group of friends who've named ourselves. Well, it was just to weird too continue referring to each other as "my anger mgmnt group", so magnolias, it is.

My middle daughter is getting married at the end of the month. I may kill her before the big day. That probably figures into anger management somehow.

I'm in the summer term of school, only the fall term left to finish my AA degree. I'm pretty worried about the financial strain it's putting on our home. Our goal is for me to continue going and work towards a bachelors. Maybe before I'm 50, I can really finish. Sometimes I feel like a good example to our children. Sometimes I just feel like a loser.

I'm taking a philosophy of religion class. It's broadening my horizons and confusing me. All at the same time.

My dog is still dead in the backyard. I can't believe how much I still miss him.

I can't cook worth a damn, but I'm trying.

This is kind of like my own little post secret segment.

I started running again. Yes, I'm planning to call myself a runner again. I'm tired of being a blob. I want to feel good in my clothes. I want to feel good in my skin.

that's all.

self-defense

2009-04-27T19:26:00.000-07:00

Did I mention I've been taking a self-defense class? Tomorrow night is the last of a five week session. I am now a firm believer that every woman should take anger management and self-defense (probably in that order :) The class is at the karate studio where my girlfriend takes her young son. She and I and another friend have been attending it. It's been great fun hanging out with them every week! The class itself was really hard for me at first. My gf thinks we have body memories. I don't know if it's true or not, but I'd already worked through a lot of brain memories in therapy, so I wasn't prepared for my reaction to implied physical threat. Without a lot of detail, there's been some violence in my past and remants of it have carried over into my present in the form of intimidation. So a few posts back, i mentioned the boogey man in the corner, well he has a name and he knows our life, so he's got a good idea when Steve's out of town. I've known for years that I will one day die at his hands. It's just how it will be. A couple therapists have tried to talk me out of it, until they realized the truth in my knowledge. Some years ago, I did get fed up of living with this over my head and I told him I was sick of it, so if he planned to hurt me then come on and let's get it over with. Otherwise I was plain old tired of him threatening me and I wasn't going to take it any more. Well, that gave me some relief as I felt like I'd taken part of my power back, but when I started this class, I seem to have lost all that mental control. I've not slept well since the class started. Until last week.

Last week, husbands and friends came to class. Steve was working in another state, not that it mattered, as he'd already said he wanted no part of angry women kicking his gnards (I think he was mixing my classes!) :) Anyway, in my line was my gf who is small but tough as nails, a tiny woman about 4'10" and maybe 90lbs, me and a 19-yr-old gal who holds a black belt. At the front of our line was the Kung Fu Panda, 6'1" 280 lbs, mostly in the belly, if you know what I mean.

First we laid on our backs and he sat on our bellies. We were taught how to buck up to throw him off balance, elbow him in the groin 3x, toss him off us and kick him as we got away. (no wonder Steve wouldn't volunteer.) Anyway, the 19-yr-old was crying after her first try. The emotions get to you. I don't know her story, but I do know she hates her dad, so I put two and two together and gave her a big hug. Amazingly, I did fine. We went through the circuit four or five times each. Panda was getting a little sweaty, but he was determined to help us be safe in the future, so his fighting us was very realistic. Next they taught us how to get away if he had both our arms pinned as well. I was first in line. My mind was scrambling and I was trying to talk myself down, I lay still with my arms raised and as soon as he grabbed them, I lost it. I was sobbing and panicking and he immediately let go of my arms and let me up. My gf touched my shoulders and my cheek and helped me slow down. Panda took on the next gal, a little shaky himself. All too soon, it was my turn again. I laid down and raised my arms. This big man says, "I don't have a face." I asked him how he knew I saw a specific face. He said because I had looked him in the eyes before i got scared. He said, "I don't have a face, so you do whatever you need to do to get away from me." And I did! I got away. I bucked him off balance and I really got away. I made him swear to me he wasn't being easy on me and he wasn't. I got away.

When it was my turn again, the instructor came over and he took me aside to work with me himself. After Panda, he was a lightweight! It was much easier to throw him off balance. We stood up and he told me how proud he is of me for working through the internal chaos in these last weeks. He said he has seen me grow stronger and he's very pleased with me. Sometimes healing comes when we least expect it.

At the end of class, I thanked Panda profusely for the gift he gave me of working through my fright in a safe environment. I could tell I brought out the dad or the protector or whatever you call it in him, as he thanked me for being brave.

The instructor asked everyone how they felt. Every week the women say things like, "great!" or "empowered" and I never understood it, because I felt uncomfortable or even nervous. But I heard myself say aloud, "I feel good."

Through out the next day I cried or laughed at inappropriate times. It was an over-whelming rush of emotions anytime I slowed down enough to think. The boogey man will still come for me, but I will be ready. I will not die. I know now, for the first time in my life, when he comes, I will win.

going backwards?

2009-04-27T19:16:00.000-07:00

i finished my first week at the plant nursery. It was super fun. You don't have to think to be a cashier, you just get to visit with folks and learn lots of new plant stuff. It was awesome. Well, except for the part of my upper back screaming at me for standing in place for five hours at a whack! This will not be nice, but now i know why some folks choose to stay in this kind of job for years. It's so dang easy. Sure, it's busy, especially when the sun comes out (which isn't all that frequent yet.) But busy isn't the same as having to think about what you're doing. Busy isn't the same as the emotional toil of helping someone plan a funeral. Busy isn't the same as crying your guts out when you get home or of not being able to eat certain textures of food because of something you saw at work. Busy doesn't remind you of funeral home smell everytime you go into the bulk food section at the grocery store. I DON'T KNOW WHY. It just smells the same. Busy is fun. Busy makes me tired at night. And that's definitely a good thing.

Busy does make it a little hard to get my homework done though. Late nights are becoming my friend. Still, that's okay. Right now i'd rather the busywork than the wrapping my head around somebody else's grief day in and day out.

2nd offer of the day

2009-04-16T16:06:00.000-07:00

ok, so i just got off the phone with a guy from the parks and recreation department. I'd done a phone interview with them yesterday, and he offered me a job as a fee collector at parks. It's a little weird that they don't even see what a person looks like before hiring them for a job around children and families. Oh well, I'll sit in a little box and take folk's money. No skills needed. Can you see a pattern in the types of part time jobs I applied for? This one pays even less than the nursery, BUT I could be alone! No coworker to make mad, no boss to disobey, a beautiful park to look at, absolute perfection in a part-time-just-want-to-pay-for-my-own-education-so-i-don't-get-into-a-weird-parent-child-role-with-my-husband-Steve kind of job. (Sorry, Mr. Todd, I'm trying so hard not to plagiarize, but it's pretty dang hard!) So, I go fill out paperwork and have an orientation with them on Tuesday. We'll see what happens and which job I keep. Maybe both? nah. That'd be too much like work...

what i've learned... ha!

2009-04-16T14:07:00.001-07:00

So, Monday I have an orientation for my new part time job. I'm taking 18 credits of classes, so I'd like to only work maybe 20-25 hours a week, and I'd like it to be only mon-friday. And I'd like to get paid the equivalent of working full time at a nice paying job. But none of that is in the cards! Well, the 20-25 hours is but I think that's about it. I'm going to work in a nursery. Plants not babies. They probably don't call it nursery, maybe gardening center? It's its own business, not like a section of Lowe's or something. I love gardening, although truthfully, i'm not great at remembering to water (drip sprinkler systems rule!) I think it'll be a lot of fun, so long as I don't sneeze like crazy. What a journey in these past few years. In some ways, i feel like a total failure. Let's see, good career-type job, great benefits, great coworkers. Then I stayed at home for awhile and remodeled bathrooms. Great fun! Then I got a job where i could see the inside of people's heads and chests. Yumm-O! Not. My goodness, that very first autopsy repair is still branded inside my brain. It may not ever go away. I've not eaten a chicken nugget since. Then I got a job where i didn't have to look inside folks too much, whew! Just got to work with their grieving (or not so much) families. That was awesome and hard and rewarding and frustrating. Then I got to be invited not to come back. Geez, cremate one person when you're told not to and no one ever let's you forget it. It's a long story, but the short version is that morally, ethically and legally I did what I judged was right for the family, not that i did the actual cremation, there are checks and balances, and everything checked correctly so the cremation was done by the appropriate personnel. But my immediate supervisor asked me to hold off and get one more signature (again, not required legally). I chose to act superior and judge that i knew better than he did, plus I figured he was just embarrassed that I'd overheard a coworker telling him what an idiot he is, so I presented my paperwork to the crematory anyway, and the cremation took place. I know all this probably doesn't make a lot of sense and i'm not explaining well and i don't even know why i'm writing it at all. Maybe i'm still feeling smug and somewhat superior and still rationalizing my actions, when the point is I did not follow directions. In the end, it didn't matter if i was "right" because i lost. And it threw me into a tailspin like i'd not experienced before. so that's been a pretty black part of life.

But now, in some ways I feel like a new soul. (I've run twice this week, woo-hoo!) I'm learning and learning and learning. I now know how to tile a shower and a tub surround and a floor; I know how to texture walls and ceilings (well, in my own opinion I know how and it's my house, so that's all that matters!); I know how to sew curtains (but I can not make a Roman shade to save my life); I know how to make up and style a dead person; I know how to pull off one heck of a funeral service, with tears and laughter; I look super hot driving a hearse (ok, maybe not, but it sure is one of the best parts of the job, well, when it's empty not full); I know how to communicate in a small group (don't ask my classmates, just look at my "A" grade); I'm leading an anger management class, so obviously I know a little something about anger :), ok that one doesn't really count as I haven't just learned it in the last few years; and, finally, I know what Aristotle thinks about happiness. Hmm... semi-conductors, bathroom tiler, office manager, funeral director, student, nursery worker... some would say I'm going backwards, and financially they'd be right, but maybe, just maybe, all of this doesn't make me the failure I was beginning to think i'd become.

Guess who I ran into today?

2009-04-10T12:23:00.001-07:00

This makes me laugh hysterically. I may be over the edge. I've sent it out in email for the last couple years. My friends are probably sick of it, but I can't help how much it makes me laugh.

birds and spring

2009-04-07T18:50:00.000-07:00

I need to borrow a bb gun. The crows are making me a little crazy. There are two kinds of birds who I love to hear, they have great songs. But they're usually drowned out by the gang of crows who've claimed my back yard as their turf. I read that I only need to kill one of them and then hang it in a tree. The rest of the crows will get the message and go away. I've not yet succeeded. But then I've only tried throwing pinecones and I think the success rate of killing crows 40 feet up in a tree with a pinecone is fairly low. I also read you should beat an empty cereal box with a wooden spoon. The crows will be so annoyed, they'll fly away. This is so not true! My family and neighbors, however, get pretty dang hostile. Well, i've not actually used a cereal box, but I do keep a pair of flip-flops (thong sandals) by the backdoor. They make an excellent echo and it did work at first, but then I realized Steve gets pretty testy when I'm smacking them together at 6 in the morning. (I want to say, "my husband Steve" because i constantly say to myself, "my wife Kara", but I'll keep from doing it. See http://justhumorme.blogspot.com/ , i don't know how to make cool links...) Anyway, I don't know why I get so mad at those birds, but I sure wish I could kill just one...

the boogey man

2009-04-03T16:12:00.001-07:00

Today I am exhausted. The last two nights have left me tossing and turning. I hear every creak and groan of the house. Even though each noise is easily identifiable, it doesn't matter. My heart pounds, I can literally hear it in my ears. I am certain it's the boogey man finally coming to collect his due. He walks down the hall. He peers through my bedroom door. His is silhouetted by the light from my laptop in the other room. Last night, I remembered to close my laptop, so i couldn't see him standing there. It didn't matter, I still saw his shadow. I still heard his footsteps. I hear them in the refrigerator. I hear him in the wind. I hear him in the settling of old attic boards. I feel his breath as he leans over my bed. I feel his touch in the stirring of my hair as the overhead fan turns gently. I brush him away as though swatting at flys. Sleep visits me briefly before being ripped away by the drumming in my ears. Adrenaline flows through me like I've just run a marathon. All my senses are alive and at peak perception. The boogey man waits. He laughs quietly from the corner of my room. My bladder is full, the rain pours outside my window, taunting me, knowing I won't cross the floor to the bathroom. He will come out from the corner if I dare to walk past him. One o'clock, two o'clock, oh please let me fall asleep before the witching hour. You can wake me back up when it's past. Irrational thoughts. Irrational beating of my heart. Will he never allow me rest?

Wii and Valentines

2009-02-15T13:03:00.000-08:00

My valentine got me Dance Dance Revolution for the Wii for Valentines Day. I've been wanting it forever. I do not know why. I felt like an elephant in a labyrinth. Stomping around with no concentration! It is sooooooo fun. And not a bad workout either. This morning I played it and the strength training on the FIT. My abs are a little tender now. It's a good feeling. The dancing, aka stomping and swearing, is going to take a bit of getting used to. It's pretty hard for me since I have NO rhythm, but I think I'll like it.

I think I'll like the fun way to exercise. I hope it's one more step out of this funk....

Proverbs 15:1

2009-02-12T19:00:00.000-08:00

"A soft answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger."

And so began last night's anger management class... I've now put that proverb beside my laptop, probably I should post it in the bathroom, in my car, use it as a bookmark, on the fridge, on this and on that and on and on.

I exel at harsh words.

Maybe that's not entirely true. I seem to have learned my mother's lessons well. I excel at meticulously worded throat slashings.

A soft answer turns away wrath.

A soft answer turns away wrath.

A soft answer turns away wrath.

Don't mind me, I'm just trying to make it stick. there's no place like home, there's no place like home.

I'm taking a small group communications class. My group is sure pissing me off. I may not have taken this class had I realized I'd actually have to work with a small group and my grade will depend on said group. They don't seem to care as much as I do about an "A," they want to develop relationships or something. Bah. Today I got a little grumpy during our meeting, no harsh words, but I was a little short. Can't they just stick to the agenda. "It's prima cotton and it's the silkiest cami ever. It comes in quite a few colors. Come into my store when i'm working and try them on." What??? Who cares! What even is "prima cotton???" Did I even hear her right, maybe she said pima, is that a cotton? I don't know. "Ahem, sorry but could we maybe talk about the project?" "oh, ha ha, sorry." Then silence, because the mean old lady spoke up. I'm trying to remember age and life differences. I'm trying to remember.

But they're just so damn stupid.

I'd make my momma proud.

focus (or lack thereof)

2009-02-10T14:37:00.001-08:00

I'm going to try to post something each day. Although there is nothing note worthy to post. I just need something to focus on. Steve's bday was last weekend and my focus this week seems to be to finish off the birthday cupcakes. I saw myself in the mirror this morning in the bathroom at school. I was a little surprised. Or maybe a lot surprised. You know how sometimes you catch a glimpse of yourself, it's quick and maybe you see your mom staring back or your dad or your sibling? Just that quick little, oh?! and then it's gone and it's just your own head reflected again? Well, that happened, the awareness of how others must see me. I'm bloated like a tick. It happened so slowly over the past couple years. The worst part is I don't seem to have a great desire to change my bad habits. I used to run. Now I eat. I was so upset by that old woman in the mirror that I came home, ate some lunch, polished off two more cupcakes and took a nap for an hour and a half. Grr...

Our middle daughter is getting married in July. I have tried to use that as motivation to stop eating and start exercising. For a while last summer I was using the WII fit daily. That's pretty fun and I like how it tracks progress.

A couple weeks ago, I crossed over a line and the WII told me I'm overweight. I said "bullshit, you are" right out loud. It's electronic, I know it's not overweight, but it just came out. I felt a little foolish, only a little. Yesterday I finally got the stupid game back out. It hasn't changed its mind, I'm still overweight. I'm 5'4" and weigh 149 pounds. There I said it aloud. I weigh alot. I stayed at 125 till I was 30. Now I am officially a blob.

Maybe just saying it aloud will motivate me to do something. I can't really figure out what has happened. I've turned into a middle aged whiner. I have a good life. Why can't I make this nothingness go away? I abhor women like who I am right now. Well, usually I only hate the ones who whine out loud, the poor me ones. I don't whine aloud. Well, except occassionally, but only to Steve and barely to one girlfriend.

Last Friday I had a meltdown, mini, well maybe it was not so mini as Steve was home to see it and usually I hold myself together when he's home. Little things have become huge. The weight of nothing has become unbearable. We didn't fight, it wasn't that kind of meltdown. I simply allowed him to see the chaos that my mind has become. I sometimes can not keep from crying and I may not even know why. I sometimes can not keep from sitting and staring and doing nothing. I sometimes can not do anything. I sometimes sit at my computer for hours playing stupid, mindless games, just to pass time till I can sleep.

So I will type. It doesn't involve much movement and I can cry if i want to. :) And hopefully I won't whine too much.

what is there to say

2009-02-09T10:23:00.000-08:00

There is little of interest in my life right now.

Three years have passed along with two positions at two different funeral homes. Now, no job. I'm going to school full time and need to find some part time work to support this habit.

Perhaps the funeral industry is not for me. I am of service to families, great service, I know, but I can not seem to play well with others. Am I at fault for their stupidity? I think not. Am I to blame for their inability to manage well? Again, I think not. However, I am fully responsible for my own inability to shut the hell up and do what I'm told. I don't know why it's so difficult for me.

Two years have passed and I am now re-taking anger management. Actually this time I'm co-leading the class. Does that mean I'm really, really angry?

Three months have passed since the end of my job. I am in a place of utter confusion and chaos. How did I land here again? How much therapy can one soul need?

Five years have passed since I quit the high-tech industry and began my floundering. Is this growth? It seems that my life is paralelling my 17-yr-old daughter's. College next year for her and the beginning of a new phase. At 43, I should not be at a beginning stage. I should know where I am headed. I should be secure in a career. I should not be so lost.

truths

2009-02-08T19:07:00.000-08:00

there are truths about me to powerful to ignore.

I have greater financial worth dead than alive.

I am swimming under a great sea and the surface seems so far from reach.

I am melodramatic beyond belief.

I am capable of self pity on a grander scale than even I imagined.

My legs are tired and I have walked only from the television to the refrigerator to the computer.

Thousands have lost their jobs, and it was beyond their control.

Violins strum so loudly, I can not hear my fingers press the keys. The thought makes me laugh.

I am searching for a way out of this dark.

No longer a journey in a house of death, perhaps the page will become a journey from the death of who I thought I was to the person I am to become.

Tears of frustration and of rage have been my comfort for months. Quiet moments of lethargy. Loud moments of pain. Angry moments of disgust.

I'm tired now.

Tired of being in this place. Ready to move forward but unsure how. Ready to discover what awaits me. New truths. New tapes playing.

I am trusting.

God, who in all his wisdom, must know what I can endure.

I am trusting.

That he will comfort and grow me as maybe I finally learn to lean on him.

Corey and Matt

2008-06-03T20:55:00.000-07:00

It's been seven months and my little dog is still dead. Not that I thought he wouldn't be. Just that i thought it'd get easier. He's haunting me in the past couple weeks. I see him out of the corner of my eye. I hear him barking outside. I saw him in the back seat of my car last week as I was getting in to head to work. I feel him brush past me in the hallway.

My son is an alcoholic. Not that I thought he miraculously wouldn't be. Just that i thought it was getting easier and he wasn't drinking. My dog is still dead and my son's still drinking. Tomorrow night he and I and his girlfriend will have a come-to-Jesus meeting. It's probably long overdue.

I'm overwhelmed at work. Feast or famine. Feast this week, which makes time go quickly, but there isn't enough time to do all that needs to be done. I'll be pleased when my service/burial tomorrow is over. It's a difficult family. Two more services this week, but at least neither is mine, they belong to the other two directors.

I'm overwhelmed with homework. Did I say that a requirement of being hired as a funeral director was that I need to be fully licensable within two years? So, I have to take some classes.

That's my evening. Dog dead, son messing up again, and I just feel tired and overwhelmed.

There oughta be a country song in there somewhere.

Yee-haw.

The cat I met today

2008-03-28T22:51:00.000-07:00

Last fall a young man died. I'll call him Micky. Late teens. Stupid freak accident. Huge service. My new FH took care of him. Lots of media attention. Today his mom asked me to bring some pictures of the service that we still had to her house. She gave me the code to the front gate and the code to the main building entrance. As I walked up to the building I saw a cat through the windows beside the door. I punched in the code and worried a little that the cat would try to scoot out past me. No worries, he was apparently my greeter. He meowed a hello and stepped back so I could come in. Then I realized he wasn't just moving for me to come in, he'd stepped back to show me the way. He took me to the elevator and told me to press the button like I didn't already know to press it. Once inside, he told me to press again. Literally it's like he was meowing to me what to do. Without hesitation I said, "Hello Micky. Be a little patient, I've never seen a cat taking an elevator." He turned up his nose and pressed his face to the door. When we stopped, he squeezed his paw into the tiny opening of the door and pushed it as though he were making the door open faster. We got off the elevator. He turned right, I turned left. Well, he said I turned the wrong way (meowing). I said I wanted to go left (human words). He said to just hush and follow him (meowing). I followed him. He took me straight to Mickey's door. I knocked. He said, "they won't hear that". Then he looked into the window beside the door. I ignored him. He was right. They didn't hear me. I rang the doorbell. He gave a pointed sigh and continued looking in the window. Again, he was right. Someone came to the door. I was so flaberghasted. I said something stupid like, "Your cat greeted me downstairs". The cat ran in the door and I never saw it again.
What an odd last couple of days.

I topped it off by attending a senior citizen dance tonight that we sponsered, but that's a whole nother posting...

and it doesn't stop yet

2008-03-28T22:49:00.000-07:00

Today I took a baby's urn back to an 18 year old mom who lied about the dad. Gave me some guy's name who swore to me he didn't know her so how could he be a dead baby's father. Ends up that mom's step-dad is baby's father. How can people like that exist? It makes me so darn mad.

continuing my verbal diarreaha

2008-03-28T22:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to a lady's house to do the paperwork for her mom. I don't really like to go to houses as it freaks me out a little but sometimes it's necessary. Mom was 91, daughter is late 60s and wheelchair bound. Her front door was open, so I knocked and stepped in. She sat there in her wheelchair from across the room and she didn't say anything at first. I called her by name, and she just said, "holy smokes!" I smiled a little and said excuse me. She repeated herself, "Hoooollllly smokes!". I didn't know what to do and was thinking that she knew I was a woman cuz we talked on the phone and female funeral directors aren't all that odd anyway. Ha!! That's not what she meant. Apparently she thought I'm "smoking hot!" It made me laugh so hard. She invited me to come in and sit. Well there was only one tiny spot cleared on a love seat with STUFF stacked EVERYWHERE, exactly why I don't like to go to the homes of strangers. She said, "I'm not a lesban, but my daughter is and she would fall in love with you." I was cracking up. She pulls her glasses to the tip of her nose and then looks me up and down and stops at my boobs. I fall a little short in this area, but apparently it was sufficient. It was hilarious. Not that I think late 60s is old, but it's not spring chicken either and I've certainly never been checked out like that by a senior citizen. Some years back I discovered that once behind the wheel of a minivan, I became completely invisible to men. (true story but I'll have to save it for another day). Now apparently I'm invisible to all BUT old women in wheelchairs who have rooms full of Winnie the Pooh and other miscellaneous crap in piles over every possible horizontal surface in their homes. Smoking hot. yee-haw. That made my day. It was amazingly weird. Oh! I almost forgot. I asked for her grandparents' names for the death certificate. She couldn't remember but told me all that information is inside a suitcase under the sink in the front bathroom. I kid you not. I asked if she wanted me to get it for her. She said yes. So I squeezed past her, then past a walker in the hallway, and stepped into an absolutely spotless bathroom. What??? How could it be so clean. I kneel in front of the sink and open the door and sure enough there's an old-fashioned, hard-sided, blue suitcase under there. I take it out and bring it back to the living room and help her open it and I'm stunned to see all of her mother's important documents in there. Her baptismal certificate, high school graduation papers, all kinds of stuff. Who keeps that in a blue suitcase under the bathroom sink? Incredible.
The woman was actually wonderful. A great story teller. "Are you sitting down for this one, Noelle, oh yeah, you are, it's a good one..." I completely enjoyed my time with her and I'm even looking forward to seeing her again to take her mother's urn home, but I was also very glad to get into my white minivan with company logo on the door (not so invisible), pour on the hand sanitizer and be on my way. Smoking hot? maybe; shallow? undoubtably.

ok, so I'm breaking my vow of silence

2008-03-28T21:45:00.000-07:00

Not that I made a vow of silence, but the past two days have just been incredible. Very good and very weird.

First for good. Today my old funeral home called me, I stay in touch with them somewhat regularly. They wanted to let me know that one of my families was there and asking for me and wondering if they can get my new phone number. So of course I said sure. They were one of my last families to work with. Three sisters whose mother died. I cremated her and then put her into about a zillion little boxes. They went to Pier 1 and got beautiful beaded jewel boxes, I'm sure you've seen them if you've been in there. So four of those. Two angel keepsake urns that they bought from me. And then they each had four or six, I can't remember, little pill boxes, also from Pier 1. I sent them there for urn shopping. I don't know why folks spend hundreds of dollars for urns when you can get perfectly good ones at Pier 1 and Ross and Kohls. Anyway, that's not the point of anything. The sisters were wonderful and I cared so much for them and it was truly an honor to get to end my time at that FH with a family like them. Today, they didn't just call me, they came to see me at my new work. AND they brought me candy. AND they started to cry and I started to cry and it was very neat. (selfishly, it was also good that my new coworkers got to see that i do a good job with my families). So that was an awesome thing for me today actually. I know that families follow directors around to whatever funeral home they go to and now maybe I have one of my own families to follow me. Neat.

blogging

2008-03-25T19:13:00.000-07:00

I don't seem to be very good at blogging anymore. Maybe it's the topic. I've become more and more protective of my families and feel less likely to tell their stories. Also I had to sign a couple forms that I wouldnt' keep a blog or other online posting regarding my work. So it makes me a little nervous. There are a couple apartments upstairs in our funeral home and a couple of students live there. They're both going to mortuary school and get free rent and a little pay for answering phones, cleaning, opening the funeral home on weekends. One of them had a blog and someone found out about it and he got in a lot of trouble. Well it must not have been too much trouble because he still lives there and works there and I never heard it from him only from other folks. But it makes me leary of posting stuff.

Maybe I'll start a new blog...

back to work

2008-01-31T19:54:00.001-08:00

start the new job tomorrow. I'm not excited. I'm hoping for snow. Weatherman says I won't get it. Guess it'll be fine. I'll just keep thinking of the money in the bank for our trip next summer. I've not even started, and I'm already counting the days till vacation. How spoiled am I?

Interview part 2

2008-01-16T15:59:00.000-08:00

So the interview went well. Mostly it sounds like a decent job and a good place to work. The funeral home is corporately owned, so i'd get to participate in a 401k again. Who knew how good that could be. The money is livable, right where Steve told me to ask for (which I didn't ask, they just told me). The hours are fine. On-call every third weekend, which is also livable. Directors at my last job worked the weekends on a rotating schedule. I wouldn't have to work unless a service were planned or a death occurred and the family didn't want to wait till Monday to come in. I wouldn't have to do removals because they have two students who do them all. Removals are picking up dead folks from the place they died and since it seems that most people choose to die in the middle of the night, not doing removals is a very good thing. Two things could keep them from offering me the job. First is the other person they've been talking with about the position. He flies in from out of state next Monday for his interview. So, he may win. Second is that I don't have a college degree. Sad but true. Without a degree, I can't graduate from intern to funeral director. The state says I have five years to get the degree. Denny says he'll give me two. He also said if I did some online work he'd give me a designated hour each day to do it, so I'll have less homework during the evenings. He also said they'd reimburse my tuition. I had an appt this afternoon at the community college to see what they had to say about a timeline. I missed it but can go in a few minutes during their walk in time.

All this to say I wasn't even sure i wanted to work yet and now I might have a new job AND I'll be going back to school. Guess we'll see what happens.

interview

2008-01-14T22:07:00.001-08:00

So, I've got an interview tomorrow and somehow I'm not all that sure how i feel about it. Friday I looked on the state funeral director's website to see what i need to do about my intern license. It expired on my bday in December, but since I'm not working I don't have a director to be signed up as my mentor. Well, I clicked the employment link and a funeral home right here in my city had an opening. I right away grabbed the phone and thought if Kiki answered I'd talk to her, anyone else and I'd just hang up and not worry about it. Well, Kiki answered. She used to have my last job before me and she's the reason I went into the industry, well she's not the reason, but she encouraged me. I've thought before when I've talked to her that she thought I should stay as an office manager and not be a director. So it was a little hard to blurt out, I saw you guys are hiring for a fd, but I did it. She was very excited to hear from me and she right away gave me the cell number for the manager who'd taken a day off. She said their home has switched to central prep, so I wouldn't have to worry about learning to embalm. whew! Central prep is the way a lot of corporate owned funeral homes work. Bodies are taken to a central location where embalming, dressing, and casketing are performed. Then they go back to their own funeral home for services. It was a concern for me, as I've realized I really have no interest in embalming, but then how can you really be a funeral director if you don't deal much with dead folk. Hmm. Anyway, the manager, I'll call him Denny, goes to my church. I've seen him there and also he's come to my old work a couple times before to chat. So I felt only a little uncomfortable to call him at home. I hurried and called before chickening out and he was also very glad to hear from me. He told me he'd have to rethink his whole strategy and would love to talk with me more on Monday when he's back in the office. We chatted a couple minutes and I hung up with my head swimming. When Steve got home from work, I no longer felt so guilty about sleeping till 10am, since I'd gotten such a positive vib from both Kiki and Denny. Crazily, I feel a little like I'm not quite ready to go back to work though. Steve has been amazing in the past couple years and I don't wanna push my luck, but I also kinda like being at home. Let's see, quit a well paying job with tons of benefits and stock options; stay at home and remodel for almost a year; take a low paying job with no benefits in a funeral home of all places; quit again so that I can travel around with him for a couple months; now when it looks like another job may come my way poor Steve has to listen to me whine about "maybe I'm not ready to work again". Yes, I DO know how good I've got it. I'm not saying I think I'm a shoe-in for this job, I wouldn't be that arrogant, but I wasn't prepared for how happy they both were to hear from me. Denny called me this morning and asked me to come in for an interview tomorrow. He said he's heard nothing but great things about my work and he'd love to talk with me more. I figured that Friday he'd be calling directors I worked with to see what they thought of me and it sounds like I was right. So, I guess it's a good thing I bought that new suit Saturday. Gray wool, lined of course. It looks pretty good on me, if I say so myself. I sure hope I can remember the dry clean only part though! Anyway. I'll go in tomorrow and see what they have to say. Wouldn't it be awesome if later in the week they were to offer me a position that's Tuesday thru Thursday? I'd take it for sure! :)

Job Hunt

2008-01-02T13:58:00.001-08:00

Today the official job hunt begins. Well, I updated my resume and that's about as far as I've gotten. Does that count? I know which funeral home I want to work in next, I just don't know if they want to hire me! Guess maybe next week I'll have to tell them they do, no huge hurry...

I feel as though I don't have much of a purpose lately except to be a "lady of leisure", whatever the heck that is. Two solid months of traveling with Steve have left me fat and happy, but now I need to do something about the fat part! Maybe it's the turning of the new year and maybe it's the beginning of letting go of Corey but today I am ready to start fresh. Well, again, not in a huge hurry...

This year I'd like to get a new job, begin to run again, learn Italian, well conversationally at least, and remodel my kitchen. The kitchen will probably not get done because of Italy in September and that will probably take the budget, well part of it, enough to slow it down. Right now I better finish with my resume. Well, right after i read some blogs...

Corey

2007-12-23T06:28:00.000-08:00

I fear I am losing my mind. Corey is dead and has been since November 1st and I seem to still be moving through a fog. I feel like a murderer and I am haunted by his small face, his eyes looking into mine. He was my 8 lb poodle and I put him to sleep. That sounds so noble, like i did him some huge favor. Like the end result isn't still the same. He is dead and I am not.

I tell my grandson that Uncle's in heaven now. "Did God take Uncle Corey?" "yes", i whisper. "Then I don't like God. You tell me where heaven is and I'll go get him back!" I try to explain that Corey died and then God took him. It's lost on his not quite four year old mind. "

This is my first Christmas without Corey in twelve years. He was a pound puppy when I got him, well not a puppy but at least five years old. I just had my first birthday without him. He won't have another birthday.

I can see it in the eyes of those around me. Okay, enough now. But I am driven to tears at the drop of hat. I will take his toys out of the living room today. Family starts arriving for the holiday and even I recognize that it's time to move them, if only for the extra space which will soon be devoured by presents. Presents. Bah.

We are looking for more lights for the tree in a Christmas box, digging through the closet under the stairs. Steve tells me to look away. I have no idea what he's talking about and wonder how he's secreted away a gift for me amongst lights and ornaments and angels. There is no gift. I see that what he is trying to shield from my eyes is Corey's elf outfit. And I know that Steve can not bear to see me cry again. It's not as though I sit around crying. But it's not as though I am present in our lives either. I am stuck in between and unsure of how to get back. I've been traveling with Steve since I quit working and everytime we come home, it's fresh and new all over again. Corey is not here to greet me. Corey did not fly along with me. Corey is not.

It's Christmas and there should be cheer. I am raging inside. The last two days I am the woman I despise. Ugly, snapping, belittling Steve, barking orders at him, barking, ha, barking. I just want my effing dog back. I am compelled to go into the back yard, move the little pile of stones, and dig him up. I want to hold him, please can't he lick my cheek one more time. In the first week, Steve understood and he held me and gently talked me through the need to dig him up. Now I can not tell him that the feeling is just as strong. I know what death does. I know that what is buried is no longer my dog. But I am unable to focus on that and instead he is still fluffy and soft and he remembers me like when he was young. In my mind, he is no longer the blind old dog, but a younger version of himself, when he always knew who I was. There is no senility, just his regular grumpy, psychotic self. He was crazy. Anyone who met him had no doubt of his mental capacity, but he was my friend. My secret keeper.

It's my birthday and Steve tells me to close my eyes and hold out my hands. Even though we have agreed there will be no surprise dogs, I am still anxious. Excited and revulsed that there could be a small squirming puppy heading into my arms right now. And then the weight of the book rests heavily in my outstretched hands. A sigh of relief. Another of remorse. A travel book, for Italy, next summer. I am delighted and disappointed. We have an agreement, but still for a second, I hoped and yet I feared.

I remind myself that I did not lose a child. I remind myself of the words I've rehearsed. Old, senile, arthritis, going blind, good life, long life, happy life, incontinent, pain, biting, "for his good", no more suffering. I remind myself of his age and of his physical and mental ailments. I remind myself of the families I've worked with. Of their first Christmas this year without their loved one. I remind myself of all I am blessed with, of the love in my life.

There is no need to remind myself of the friendship of Corey.

hmm....

2007-11-26T21:27:00.001-08:00

Well, I've started this post lots of times and then find I can't continue it. The last two months have been difficult. I came to the decision that I was not being the best person I could be due to the management, in fact I was becoming a person I don't like, so Steve and I made the decision that I'd quit my job. I've been out of work for three weeks now. In January I'll start looking again and will see what comes up. There are so many things to say in this post yet I find that i still am unable to open myself up to do so. Maybe soon.

humor

2007-09-23T21:36:00.001-07:00

one of Skip's stories

2007-09-19T22:17:00.000-07:00

So Skip and I were talking today about the casket mix up and he told me that a couple years ago he had two Russian guys. He was embalming the second one and someone had set the clothes near the table for the first guy. Well, Skip ended up mixing the clothes, he said, "Heck, they both had long names that I couldn't pronounce." So the family came for the service the next day and said the guy looked great only they didn't know whose clothes he had on. I was laughing so hard. I can't imagine how I'd feel seeing my dead husband in someone else's clothes. I asked Skip what he did and he said, "Whaddaya think? I switched the heads!"

Then we were both laughing so hard.

It's what we say to each other alot ever since one of my girlfriends emailed me a joke about Bubba the Mortician. There's probably a website of Bubba the Mortician jokes somewhere, but i've not looked for it.

It was very good for me to have Skip to make me laugh today. I needed it.

the man's an idiot

2007-09-19T21:31:00.001-07:00

JK (Jargon King) is stupid. Plain old stupid. I had a viewing yesterday for the father of a well-known author who lives here locally. She's also a member of my church (not that i know her, several thousand people go there at different service times, plus i probably wouldn't know her anyway, not quite the same circles we run in, although she was mostly down to earth and very nice, and she gave me two signed books). Anyway, this isn't really about her, although i was a little intimidated to be honest. It's about the viewing of her father. The family was scheduled to be there yesterday at 4:00 for the family preview, followed by extended family viewing at 5, and then public viewing at 7pm. At 1pm, JK tells me there was a little bad news. According to him, the casket company sent me the wrong size casket. I ordered a 1X and he said they sent two regular sized ones, one for me one for the Gardens. He told me how he'd measured mine and it was regular and he called the company and they told him mine had not been delivered, so he measured the one he had again and determined it to be his. So he put his tiny little old lady in it. Only to then somehow find out it was mine. I was livid. LIVID. I just looked at him. I said, "Didn't you or anyone else think to look at the family name on the delivery sheet?" "Well, uh, um, No." "Didn't you wonder why it had handles on both ends, not just the sides?" "What does that have to do with it?" Oh my word. According to what he's told me, he supposedly managed 44 funeral homes for one corporation. According to what he told our courier it was 66. So, supposedly he has a TON of funeral experience, yet somehow he doesn't know that this most common of oversized caskets, has handles on both ends. "Why didn't anyone call me?" "No disrespect intended, but we didn't think you'd know." There was no point arguing. It was done. So what was being done to fix it. Well, let me back up. At my funeral home, we don't have a very good lift system. In fact we have a horrible one. Once before I got there Skip lost a big man while using it. Then last summer, me and Szechwan and another guy lost a big lady. It was mortifying. We all three cried. Szechwan got hurt trying to catch her and the lady was fine. Last week Skip, who's all of 5'6" and 150 lbs, plus he's over 60 and just had a heart attack a few months ago, got whirled around by someone he had in the lift. The guy was in the air and Skip was pushing him to the casket, when he started to whirl and took Skip with him. He said, "It was just like a blippity blip three-ring circus" and "I thought it was in some sort of blankety-blank rodeo". (add your own expletives, you'll probably choose the right ones) Anyway he grabbed the casket and got the guy wrestled in. But he wasn't willing to take the chance with my big guy. Skip planned to use the stationary ceiling lift at the Gardens to put him into his casket, which is why my guy and his casket were over there instead of at my funeral home. And of course Skip was at my funeral home doing some embalming when JK decided to help out.

A long and angry story short. Tiny lady in my 1x casket. My guy is dressed with no place to go. The casket company saved the day and five guys built me a new one, delivered it to the Gardens AND stayed to help Skip put my guy in it. Then he (Casket Company Guy) helped Skip get the casket in the van so he could drive it over to me, all by 4pm. How amazing is that. Except. JK had already made me call the family to tell them viewing would have to be an hour later, "because the casket company had delivered the wrong casket". I didn't know what else to tell them, so i lied like he told me to. Then i hung up the phone and cried. And cried. I am so overwhelmed with work right now and then a huge screw up like this. I was so frustrated. The family was mad.

When it all worked out and the casket company saved the day, JK called me and told me to call the family back and tell them they could still come at 4. I refused. They'd already rescheduled what they needed and I thought it would be much less professional to call them back and say never mind. I'd already done as much damage control as possible and didn't want to give them any reason to question the situation more.

The viewing was great, it really turned into more of a service kind of thing. Great music, lots of sharing. The real service was today at a church and JK came to my home when it was time for the family to come over for a last viewing before closing the casket for good. He wanted to apologize to the family for the casket company's mix up. What???? I forbade him from speaking to them about it. There was no point in drawing it to their attention any more. They were pleased with how he looked, the chapel was full of flowers and their viewing was a wonderful time of great stories, there was no reason to remind them that we'd messed up. I tried not to let JK be alone with any of them.

The best part of it all is that the Casket Guy called me this morning to verify that i wasn't angry with them because he doesn't want to lose my business. He said JK gave him back the extra one (the real one that the old lady belonged in) and that they'd measured it at their warehouse, and it definitely was the narrow or regular-sized one. He said aloud what I knew. JK messed up and put the lady in the wrong one and then started trying to blame everyone else. I thanked him profusely for saving the day and told him how happy the family was even if they saw him later. He and his crew totally saved us on this one. It was reassuring to know that everyone involved knew what really happened. It all would have been much easier to stomach had the idiot just admitted it rather than blaming others. Even today he started in with it again. He's an idiot and somehow i still gotta figure out how to treat him with respect for the position he holds even though I do not respect him. This is a lesson I keep getting in life. Mostly because I've worked for a bunch of idiots, I guess.

long week

2007-09-13T19:22:00.000-07:00

I'm exhausted. Completely. At least today I only got one more new call. I'm floating ten calls right now and I feel like a juggler. The new manager, Jargon King, calls me from The Gardens every morning and puts me on speaker phone for their morning meeting and asks how they can help me today. I've said no thanks because the last person who came to help had no idea what to do and it took longer to teach her how to use the typewriter and the copy machine than it was worth, until yesterday when I asked for someone to come over and do a preneed arrangement for me. That idiot had no idea what to do. He stammered and stuttered and said, "Uh, we have four services today and we don't have anyone to help you." I wanted to ask, "why then are you wasting my time, i'm too far behind to participate in the pretense that you're supporting me." The Boss's daughter piped up that maybe her older sister could come over and help. JK then spewed some crap like, "oh, now there's an idea, I didn't realize we could utilize her knowledge in this way. Noelle, I'll see what I need to do in order to facilitate making this happen for you. I'll get you the support you need to be successful today and we'll be in touch to fill you in on a timeframe." All i could think of was, "ok". Gone was my own silver tongue. IDIOT (spoken aloud in true Napoleon-ese after hanging up the phone ).

Ok, here's a few of my families.
1. Dad, 80s, natural causes. Daughter, 40s, caretaker for him and for Mom, who has dementia. Dtr brought Mom to arrangement conference. Dtr has the biggest circles under her eyes, she's exhausted, and she cries, for what i think is probably the first time. She's given up her own life to care for her parents who aren't wealthy people and she has no idea how she'll pay for a 650 dollar cremation. I am deeply saddened when she pushes Mom's wheelchair out to the car.
2. Wife, 58, liver cancer. Diagnosis to death = 6 weeks. Husband, devasted. Four children early 20s to early 30s. Two grandchildren who'll never get to know her. They're all in shock. Her daughter and I have swapped emails about the folders. Her last one was signed "love, X". I cried to see it. She's so vulnerable right now that she absentmindedly included me in her circle of trusted ones. She and her dad, Husband of deceased, came in this afternoon to make sure the CD she'd burned would work in our sound system. It did. I think she just wanted to come in to sit in our chapel for a few moments. Husband said she was a little upset with him cuz he'd had a drink before coming in there. I chuckled and said I often want to have a drink before coming in.
3. Boy, 12, brain cancer. He came to us from the same social worker as the Stripper's son some months ago. Born with fetal alcohol syndrome. Ward of the courts. Passed from home to home all of his life until 3 years ago when he got to go to Guardian's home where he became a part of a real family for the first time ever. Guardian and Social Worker made the arrangements together. The three of us cried alot and I didn't even know the Boy. They're having a memorial service this weekend at a local high school cafeteria where there'll be corndogs, hot dogs, cookies, and fun stuff that a 12 year old boy loved. No vegetables and no fruit because he wouldn't have eaten it. How fun.
4. Husband, 60s, blew off head in front of wife. Held gun to her head first and said he should kill her because then there'd be no way for him to chicken out and not kill himself. After terrifying her he pulled the gun back to himself. Asshole. She's so angry. And confused. And sad. There is nothing more selfish than to take one's own life. They just bought a new truck and a fifth wheel and were planning their retirement. I am trying not to judge him too harshly because i don't think that suicide should cancel out the entirety of a life. It's an act of desperation and I do understand feeling that way. Maybe it's why it's so draining to me. I've felt that desperate before, I get where he was coming from. But I chose to think of those around me whereas he chose to wallow in himself. That's the part I don't understand, making the decision to ignore the pain of family and friends left behind and making the decision to take the most selfish path there is. I just don't get it.

I long for 95 year olds who die peacefully in the night. I'm a little tired.

meme (i don't know how to pronounce that)

2007-09-13T18:57:00.000-07:00

Tag, I'm It
Patience tagged me and since I'm worrried about the cost of her therapy should I ignore her, I decided to play along. No fancy fonts or colors or anything but questions and answers.

1. Are you happy/ satisfied with your blog, with its content and look?
Yes. It's plain, but it's functional. Content has been a bit lean of late though.

2. Does your family know about your blog? Only my husband

3. Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog or you just consider it as a private thing? No. I'm not embarrassed, but i've also not shared it with some people.

4. Do blogs cause positive changes in your thoughts? Maybe i'm a little too dense or perhaps a little too shallow because i read blogs for entertainment, not so much for changes in my philosophy.

5. Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or you love to go and discover more by yourself? Commenters and my own exploring. Although i've not really been able to come across any subject i've been looking for. I just land on random blogs.

6. What does visitors counter mean to you? Do you care about putting it in your blog? it's kind of weird to see that the count goes any higher than the number of times i look at my own blog in order to click the links on it.

7. Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures? no. Well, they're all thin and beautiful and absolute fashionistas (am i using that word in the right context?)

8. Do you think there is a real benefit for blogging? it helps me clear my mind sometimes and entertains me other times.

9. Do you think that bloggers’ society is isolated from the real world or interacts with events? isolated.

10. Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it’s a normal thing? I've not been criticized in my blog nor would i care if someone who didn't know me in real life said anything critical.

11. Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them? There are political blogs?

12. Did you get shocked by the arrest of some bloggers? didn't know about it.

13. Did you think about what will happen to your blog after you die? Not until reading this question. I think it would be appropriate for my husband to write the last blog, which could tell all about my funeral. tee-hee.

14. What do you like to hear? What’s the song you might like to put a link to, in your blog? I would not like to hear music. I would leave the blog without bothering to read.

1. Name the person, with link, who tagged you. Patience
2. Complete the questionnaire without changing the questions. Ok
3. Tag people. No

Catalogs I get in the mail

2007-09-08T15:57:00.000-07:00

ho hum

2007-09-06T20:33:00.000-07:00

Well, New FD is gone now and it's quiet in my home again. It's kinda sucky. We don't always stay busy enough for two people, so the workload is fine right now, but if I get any more new calls tomorrow, I might officially be overwhelmed. I've had four calls this week, plus did all the pre-planning for one that will die soon. Have I explained that before? When we get a new death, we call them first calls. A first call is simply the count of a new death, maybe it means when the family or hospital or whoever first contacts us to report the death. My home does between 18-24 calls a month. Our big home does between 75-85 a month, quite a difference. It also explains why they don't seem to be in a big hurry to get me a new director. They're too busy keeping their fingers in the dam across town cuz directors are quitting like crazy.

I'm pretty angry this week with The Boss and New Mgr. Well, i don't actually know if that's true. My husband Steve (similar to my wife Kara who hates hearing birds out her window in the morning when she's trying to sleep, but that's a different blog and has nothing to do with this rant) travels alot and i miss him more than usual lately. Sometimes I don't mind that he's gone so much, sometimes it's overwhelming. Summer seems to have passed us by. No camping or hiking or almost anything outdoors. I can't believe it's almost fall. Anyway, Steve's schedule is impossible for the next three months, even some weekends he'll be gone. So, what I don't know is if i'm mad about work or if work feels overwhelming cuz I'm unhappy with all this quality time alone. Well, I do have the little dog, but he is entirely insane now and I don't know how much longer I can watch him suffer. I am so rambling. My dog's a' dying, my husband's traveling, and my job is sucking. I could be a country singer. Or not. I might not be hating my job like think I am, it could be just that I'd rather be traveling with Steve, which he'd like too. But at work, they ARE taking advantage of me and they don't seem to care. If I were the owner, I'd want to pay people less and have more money for my own vacation home in the mountains, so i get that that's how life works. Owners get benefits, employees not so much. That's fine AND I would never complain as long as I felt that I were valued and treated fairly. But I'm not right now. They're paying me to be the receptionist when really I've run the place since the first funeral director retired and now I'm doing everything and I'm being paid very poorly. The pay is a pretty big deal to me, since I make now what I earned in 1990. Not that I didn't willingly take this job, I did.

I am so whining right now. and probably not making sense. Just thinking out loud really and wondering why my dang "Magic 8 Ball" even hates me and gave me every synonym of NO when I asked repeatedly, "Should I quit my job and travel with Steve?" I even tried to trick it by asking, "Are you certain that you're pointing me in the right direction?" but then it changed it's tune and yelled out "Most Definitely". What the heck.

New Mgr is an absolute putz. I think I'll call him Jargon King as he spews crap all day long and thinks it's okay to do so as long as he smiles that pearly white smile with that impossibly spiked hair in that ridiculous pinned striped suit with french cuffs and those dang things what are they called? oh yeah, cuff links and even pants that have cuffs, which is amazingly stupid since he's short and they make him look shorter. Well i think he's short, probably 5'10", but don't tell my son I think that's short, cuz i'm taller than him when I'm wearing heels and it reminds me of working for a Japanese company where i always had to slouch so I wouldn't be towering over engineers who didn't want to be looking UP at me while they were telling me what to do.

My dog is continuously growling and snapping at air. I've not slept well this whole week cuz he growls all night long even if I put him in bed and shove him under the comforter so that he can't hear any outside noise.

And I'm so tired of stupid people who call me at ten to 5 and ask what time I close and when I tell them 5 they just say ok, I'll be right there. Then I'm stuck there till 6:15 and miss my hair appt, which is fine because it was just a trim, but I really couldn't afford to miss the eyebrow wax as any second now i'm sure I'll have a full uni-brow. Not to mention the granny mustache.

AND I'M NOT MAKING ANY DANG MONEY! Whew. I'll hush up now.

new FD. Again.

2007-08-30T21:45:00.001-07:00

Well, tomorrow is New FD's last day. He gave his notice a couple weeks ago. I'm beginning to get a complex. I keep them for about 6 months each and then they leave me. Ha. The first one retired. The second moved to the state where her husband lives to try to be a real married couple. And now this one is going to another funeral home. He says he really likes working with me, but he knows that he's going to keep getting dragged over to the bigger FH and it's entirely too stressful. So the home he's going to is about the same size as the one we work at now.

We did get a new manager, finally, and New FD is a little bummed to be going now, just cuz he'd like to have his own stories to tell about the new guy. Everyone seems to know everyone in this industry and no one has anything good to say about Manager. In fact, most things are down right weird or stupid. He's probably around 40 and he dresses like a stereotypical pimp. His hair is ridiculous and although I've not seen her, his wife is said to be overtanned and blonde blonde. Pretty people, yuck. I guess at one place he used to work, he used to take off his shirt at lunch time and go cruising around in his topless jeep. That probably sounds tame, but this is a mostly straight arrow middle class man industry and parading oneself draws attention unneccessarily. At another home, I guess he used to take the company suburban cruising down a street known for prostitutes.

Anyway I wasn't so much meaning to write about him or really even about losing New FD, just change once again. It's constant in this job for me. Change.

dreams

2007-08-14T20:29:00.000-07:00

Mrs. B died last week at 86, a long full life, the kind I've grown to like burying. Her two dtrs-in-law came in to make the arrangements. They sent her sons in the next day just to sign the forms. The one dtr, Alice, and I really hit it off. She's very outgoing and she volunteers for a grief support program for children who've lost someone, so she's sort of in my industry. Friday she brought in clothes for Mrs. B, she'd planned to come in Thursday but ran out of time. After she visited for awhile and told us some jokes, she was headed out. I walked her to the door and she said, "Noelle, Keep Mrs. B in tonight, no more letting her out to run around naked." I was like what??? She said she dreamed during the night that I'd let her out and she went to Alice's house to get some clothes. Then she was going to her granddaughters house to get a different outfit. Alice told her no she she couldn't go around town naked and she frantically called me to come and pick Mrs. B back up. Then she woke up in a panic. It made me laugh but also tickled my memory to the dream I'd awaken in a panic from Thursday night. It was weird. I rarely have dreamed about work, well that I remember anyway. But I dreamed that I was sitting at my desk when someone called, they were very excited, speaking quickly and loudly, just short of yelling and asking me to look for it. I didn't know what i was to look for, they said look in the back or out the front door but you have to find it. I looked out the front door and it was pitch black. Not the black of night, because night to me means street lights, cars passing, business lights, this was just plain black. I was scared. I went back to the phone and said that I couldn't see anything and I was so sorry. Then I woke up with heart pounding and sweat pouring. I don't know if Alice's dream came into my dream or mine was part of hers or what. It was very odd and freaked me out a little. Monday Alice thanked me for keeping Mrs. B. in all weekend. We both laughed, but neither laugh was genuine.

Abe Lincoln

2007-08-10T19:46:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back me, Skip, and New FD went to a casket place to hear their schpiel (sp?). They had a BBQ and a traveling road show for sales. I didn't eat and my feet hurt from standing so long and listening. But they did have a lifesize replica of Abe Lincoln's coffin. It was pretty cool. Way smaller than I thought it should be. I guess I always thought of him as really tall and thin, but the coffin didn't seem that long, like maybe a 5'10" person would fit easily.

Anyway. I'm working with a family now whose Dad just died. I did the preneed for the mom and the dad last December. Mr. Z was the president of the local chamber of commerce some years back during our country's bi-centennial. So, he'd grown a beard sans mustache and he looked very similar to Mr. Lincoln. Apparently he liked the look and kept it. At some point he jokingly told his son and daughter that it was actually him, Mr. Z., not good old Abe on the penny. His kids told their friends and soon everyone knew he was on a penny. As his kids grew and had their own children, they were also told Grandpa was on the penny. One of those kids grew and now has two daughters and they are positive Greatpa is on the penny. It's a wonderful thing for kids to think. At the service next week, we'll hand out little envelopes with a shiny new penny in them to all who attend. I think it's a great touch.

The great granddaughters are awesome. They came with Mr. Z's daughter to pick up his urn. Dtr was having a hard time, so I walked out with her carrying the urn inside a velvet bag. The great-gdtrs were waiting in the car. I was so surprised when one said, "What's in that bag, Noelle?" She knew my name. It made me smile. I said it looks like you dropped something out the window. It wasn't my place to say, "Greatpa". So she said, "what's in that bag Noelle has, Gramma?" Her Gramma said, "Buckle your seatbelt". I chuckled. She got into the driver's seat and I handed her the urn. She sat it in the passenger seat and the older girl (9 yrs?) jumped out of her seatbelt and reached up front and knocked on the urn. "What's in there?" Knock, knock, knock. I thought his daughter was gonna die. She looked at me and whispered, "She knocked on Greatpa". I laughed right out loud and then finished a conversation she and I'd been having inside, "yep, that's exactly how God wants us to love Him. Just like a little child full of enthusiasm and curiousity." She smiled and then she knew it was okay for the little girl to knock on the urn. And it was okay.

This is a family of symbols. They don't say good bye, only see you later. And when leaving one another's homes, they wave till they can't see each other any more. The first time they left my office, I stood on the porch and waved till I couldn't see their arms sticking out of the car waving to me anymore. I felt a little silly to be standing there waving with tears streaming down my face, but I didn't care. I just kept waving till I was sure they were gone. I went back inside, wiped my eyes, and went back to work. Next week we, as a chapel full of family and friends, will wave goodbye to Mr. Z after the service as his family carries him out. I'm kind of looking forward to it in a weird way. I've grown to really care about his family, they're just good people.

Today I'm reminded of what an amazing job this is. Getting to share a little part of a family's life in such an intimate way. It's really an honor to get to be a part of their lives even for this short a time.

Skeleton Fingerprints

2007-08-09T19:24:00.000-07:00

Really.
Or not.
Last week I was cleaning the windows at the front door. It's actually a wall of rectangular windows in the lobby. I don't know why it's my job to clean them. Or to clean the dang toilets either, but I'll try to stay on task. Well, usually there are toddler-sized hand prints on one of the bottom windows, probably the child of one of the church members (we rent the building to a church on Sundays and Wednesday eves). This time there were skeleton fingerprints on the outside of the window by the door. I'm sure there's a logical explanation, I think someone was trying to open the door with their right hand and maybe lost their balance and grabbed the framing with their left and then their first three fingertips dragged across the window. That's the best we can figure. HOWEVER. It looks exactly like an x-ray pic of three fingers that are kind of curved like they were going to grab a baseball. It's very fun, so I didn't clean that window. ;)
I've showed it to everyone who comes in and have heard lots of fun stories. OK, I've showed to everyone in the business who comes in, not to families. The Crematory Gal told me today that she used to work at one place that had a wall full of windows like ours. A guy came in, well a dead guy, it's not like he walked in, but he came in with a gunshot in the middle of his forehead and a very horrified look on his face with his mouth open. A couple days later as she was going into work, there he was staring at her from one of the windows. She got someone else to come look and they saw him too, in shadows, his face with the bullet hole and open mouth. Everyone saw him even if she didn't tell them what to look for, just to look. "Somehow" that window pane was broken a few weeks later, I think she did it, but she wouldn't admit it. The pane was replaced and in two weeks, he came right back. He was still there when she went to work somewhere new.
She was laughing when she told me she asked her husband last night what he thinks it means when someone hears voices all around them, whispers in the background. She said, "spirits?". He laughed, "no, schizophrenia".

an old draft

2007-08-07T22:01:00.000-07:00

July 6th
So last week, I stayed home Wednesday after being so mad and leaving early Tuesday. Thursday and Friday were then insane. Absolutely. The screaming inside my head was back in full force before it even fully subsided. It's seven days later and i'm still not okay again.

We had two casualties of our own war. The first was a family who we were able to fix things with. We got their mom out late (one hour late) for viewing. They were very pleased when we got her out (even though I had to change her lipstick color because the director who came over to help wouldn't listen to me and put on "natural" color when she wore bright red. Her family didn't want to see her in "natural", what an idiot. I did enjoy the I told you so. Except that removing and re-coloring is very difficult. Sometimes the lips are built up with a wax like substance so they look better, so then it's hard to get one color off and then be successful in getting another color to stick.) The service went smoothly and they ended up happy. Well as happy as can be when burying one's mom. Super great family.

The next family, not so happy. I woke up the last three nights fretting over how to make things right, which we can not do. There are two of us here, me and New FD. We sometimes get help from the other funeral home, but they've had no one to help us except the aforementioned director who came over to help dress the women in these two paragraphs. They're always busy busy at The Gardens and this past week was one of their craziest as well. Everyone was determined to have their service before the 4th of July. It was horrible for this family. Everything that could go wrong did and then some. I'm sick about it. Literally. Sick. I want to be equitable and say that some of it was my fault, but I'm not fully buying it. But, to say that it was New FD's fault isn't entirely true either. He's not a self-manager and I can't tell him what to do. I don't want to sound like I'm blaming but I'm just so dang angry. Not so much with him, just at how horribly wrong the whole week was. We can't fix things for this family and neither of us knows what to do.

Little Miss Ainsleigh

2007-08-04T17:59:00.001-07:00

I am now the proud grandmother of a beautiful little girl. Ainsleigh Noelle was born yesterday at 5:55 pm. (just in time as my sister's 25th anniversary wedding vow renewal was at 7pm and I didn't want to miss it!) Ainsleigh weighs 7 lbs 2oz and is 20 inches long. Yesterday she just looked like a raisin. Today, absolutely beautiful! We went back up to the hospital last night after the anniversary party and again today. I'm already ready to go back again. Tomorrow night we're on big brother duty and maybe Monday night as well.

I'll be back to myself soon I think and there will be TALL tales of death. But perhaps I was more worried about Ainsleigh and about the family we messed up with than I realized. New FD and I talked at length yesterday about that family (they wrote a letter of complaint) with our Boss. I started to cry, how embarrassing. Not because The Boss was upset with us, but because the whole thing just makes me sick for the family. We explained what happened and how we tried to remedy it (taking flowers to them and apologizing before we knew they'd sent a letter) and The Boss actually was mad with them for being whiners. (he's so lame) We were actually defending the family's anger, it was weird. I even confessed that on top of it all, I forgot to turn on the AC in the chapel before the service and once it was full of people it heated up to 76 degrees in there and everyone was fanning themselves. They didn't even complain about that in the letter and actually it does make us chuckle in a sick way. It was the icing on the cake. Steve reminded me, as did Sayre, that we didn't kill anybody, so it could have been worse. I'm trying to let go of how guilty I feel about it all, learn from it and move on. Ainsleigh's birth is helping. The cycle of life is so amazing to me.

She's a beautiful little angel.

kinda quiet

2007-07-25T20:53:00.000-07:00

I've started lots of posts, they're all sitting in drafts. We blew it with one family and it's been difficult for me to post anything as feel sort of like a fraud. Yes, in the same time period, a lot of other families were pleased with our services. But one family became a casualty of war and there's no excuse for it or way to fix it. We were too short staffed and too busy and we did a poor job. You can mess up a drive through order and still get another chance to feed that mad customer. We can not change the experience someone has when burying their mother. It doesn't go away. It's not like we dropped her or anything horrible, it was a series of small mistakes that added up to one big disaster. We're still trying to work it out with them (and with the owner), we being me and New FD. It's been a difficult few weeks.

On the other hand, we got several return families (good for us, way sad for them), but it tells us we're doing a good job overall. One lady even brought me a beautiful bracelet as a thank you. It was so humbling.

So, for the most part, funeral life is okay. For one family it was horrid and I'm still trying to evaluate and see what I can do differently in the future to keep it from happening again.

Thanks to those of you who've wondered where I've been...

lazy day

2007-06-27T15:59:00.000-07:00

Well, I didn't go to work today. I stayed home and slept till 11am. Maybe that was part of my problem with lack of perspective. I was so tired. This afternoon I went to the brand new funeral home of my old manager. Today is his first official day in business as his license just came in the mail. He's not had a first call yet but is pretty excited that he'll get one soon. The home looks great, very nicely and expensively furnished. I was more impressed than I thought I'd be, it filled me with enthusiasm for him and his wife. Too bad he won't be doing any hiring for a while. He did however make a phone call for me and found out about an office manager opening at another FH. It will be nice to see what else is available, but I really want to go more in the funeral directing path than continuing down the office girl path. We'll see. I'd like to know if I'm even marketable, so if nothing else, I'll be able to see what more I need to improve on. Tomorrow is a super busy day at work. Guess that'll be good for me, it'll make the day pass. I'm still not certain what caused my mini-melt down. I cried a lot yesterday after coming home. Was beginning to be angry with myself for not being able to just pull it together. I have a good life and part of me was inpatient that I was acting like a spoiled crybaby, but part of me just felt sad and frustrated and maybe i just needed to feel it, so I could set it aside. Like Morrie says in "Tuesdays with Morrie".
Now unrelated to me and my pity party: (maybe)
Yesterday morning I returned a call to a gentleman wanting to make prearrangements for his terminally ill wife. I caught him in the middle of a crying spell. It was horrible. His wife probably has only a few days left and he was pretty much hysterical. I'm guessing he only answered the phone because his caller id told him it was us and it'd be safe, because he could not stop crying. I explained the costs and process, I hate telling the costs, it's like putting a price on life and it's almost impossible for me to spit out the words sometimes. About half the people rate the process explanation as higher priority than the financial breakdown. They're the people I'd rather talk to, well, except they are sometimes the more emotional ones. After I hung up, I just sat and stared at the wall, swallowing back my own tears. It was a sucky conversation.

Grumpy funeral girl

2007-06-26T14:29:00.001-07:00

Today I was unable to play well with others, dead or alive, so I came home. New FD was somewhat shocked when I just out of the blue said "I don't feel well, I'm going home". It's a little out of character for me, the just leaving part. I will call him at the end of today to see what tomorrow's schedule looks like and I may stay home tomorrow too. Steve called after reading my somewhat whiney email just to let me know he supports whatever I choose to do, even if it's to quit and stay home for awhile again. He's the best. I love working with the families, but I think I said the manager quit while I was on vacation, and the owner is the biggest putz ever. He's not been too bad with me, but his affect on my coworkers has now trickled down and it's bugging me. He's nothing compared to a boss I once had who'd line up prescription drugs on his desk and we'd never know which Jim would be coming into the cleanroom, it just depended on what pill cocktail he'd mixed for himself. Now he was a boss, let me tell you. Maybe I shouldn't tell you, it's totally beside the point. Okay, I'll tell you, maybe it'll help me keep my current situation in perspective. Jim was an ass. I worked for him during a time when I was perhaps at my worst as for as people skills, so if you worked in our group you had him putting pressure on me, which then meant I put pressure on others. Most days he or I made someone cry. I was a jerk. He was a big jerk. So, we worked in a cleanroom, which means we wore bunnysuits (not the Playboy kind either, but the Intel kind, although I didn't work there, it's the most easily recognizable semiconductor company). Well, Jim was a smoker and sometimes when he got really worked up, he'd be yelling and carrying on, arms swinging, employees hiding (really), and sometimes his face mask (cloth, like nylon or something like that, but lint-free) would turn yellow from the nicotine on his breath and he'd be breathing so hard that the mask would go in his mouth when he talked. He'd spit it out and keep right on yelling and cussing and it'd get soaking wet. Disgusting. He was so mean. Once I was physically afraid of him, only once, when he wasn't even mad and we weren't even in the cleanroom, but he stepped right in my space and said quietly into my face, "If I catch you with that gum in the fab, I'll fire you on the spot." Normally, I'd know he was full of it, cuz I knew he wouldn't fire me, but that day. I stepped back and didn't say anything, cuz I couldn't, he saw the fear in my eyes, and that made me mad, more than his stupidity. I've known some mean men and in that split second he knew it and I hated him because then he knew more about me than I'd ever wanted him to know. But here's the weird part and this makes little sense. He was also the best boss I ever had. Financially, he did wonders for my income, almost tripling my wage in the five or six years that I worked for him. And I learned about myself because of him, what I was capable of becoming, so I took steps to not become him. I'm not proud of how I treated coworkers during that time and I can blame it on the stress he put on me all i want, but it's revisionist history to do so. This has become a little therapy post for me. It's a good reminder that the current situation isn't horrible and that although there is a lot that isn't right, there's alot that is. Did I mention that in the month since my vacation and the manager's departure, three other people have quit? The owner is a putz and many people in our local industry don't like him, but he gave me a job when i had no funeral or office experience. Not that that means I have any loyalty to his company, I don't. But i also recognize that the grass is not always greener on the other side.

last post about STUPID, hopefully

2007-06-25T22:38:00.000-07:00

STUPID's mom died. I'm kind of glad, it's horrible of me, but now, as New FD put it, we no longer have that sword swinging over our heads. It's been about a month since the dad died and STUPID has forgotten everything in that time period. He taped an envelope with our funeral home name on it to the telephone in his mom's room. There were two checks in it. #6788 was blank and unsigned, #6789 was written for the amount of the direct cremation, no sales tax. #6789 was in front of #6788. We wrote void on it, took a photocopy and put it in an envelop to mail to him, since he doesn't want to come in where he might have to see me. Grrr. I started this post last week, but I just get too mad when I think of that man. I'd decided that I would be very humble should i speak to him, it's the right thing to do. I was going to to tell him how sorry I am that he's now lost both parents in such a short time and that I'm also sorry if in anyway I made the whole thing even worse. And I still think it's the right thing to do but the opportunity has not presented itself. I'm not allowed to make any contact with them (dumb, it's saying part of the problem is mine, when it really isn't, hey those of you who know me, quit rolling your eyes, this one isn't my fault, he's a putz and everyone he comes in contact with feels the same way). He's truly made everyone mad. In fact one of the nurses at the care facility told me that even though the deaths are sad, the not having to deal with STUPID anymore is awesome. I could go on and on but i'll spare you the boring details. We're still waiting for him to send us some statistical info so we can complete the death certificate and get her cremated. Everyone else in the world comes in to our office after death occurs and we sit down for an hour and it's all done. STUPID has been dragging this out since January, why would I think he'd be in any hurry now. I'm ready to be done with this family!

Ainsley

2007-06-22T21:51:00.000-07:00

Ainsley and her mama are doing well. Lost heartbeat was found and contractions have slowed. Mom is staying another night at the hospital and Dad and the two boys have gone home for the night. She looked tired and flushed in the face, but otherwise okay, not so scared as she was earlier. Whew. Hopefully Miss Ainsley will wait at least two more weeks to make her appearance, longer is better, but at least two more.

Ainsley Noelle

2007-06-22T17:56:00.000-07:00

Ainsley is my granddaughter who is due to arrive the first week of August. She has been trying to make an appearance in this past month. My daughter in law spent last night at the hospital. I talked to her several times today and she seemed to be doing better, contractions were under control again and she stopped dialating. My son called a few moments ago to say they can not find a heart beat. I'm waiting for Steve to get here so we can go to the hospital. It's hard to wait. I don't want to be on the family end of my job.

quite a lot for having nothing to say

2007-06-20T22:04:00.000-07:00

I've wanted to write for a couple days but everytime I sit down there is nothing. Blank. Void. Nada. I don't know why, because things happen everyday that I think are interesting, but then I sit down and it's gone.

Well, except today I got Mr. Smith in my eye. It's still bugging me too. He's a cremation and most of him was going to the cemetery for scattering, but his family wanted part to keep. Well, the crematory separated him, but one of the little bags wasn't closed, so when I picked it up, puff, ashes flew everywhere. Right in my face, straight in my eye. Disgusting. Plus it hurt like the dickens. Very calmly, I said, "I got Mr. Smith in my eye". New FD just looked at me. The courier started to laugh. Of course, it probably was funny. In a very weird way. Plus his real name made the whole thing sound crazier, cuz it's a strange name. I wear glasses, no one told me I should wear safety glasses.

This might be gross, sorry, I'd say don't read it, but that would make you, so just know I'm trying hard not to make it gross. Crematory Girl came to pick up two people. We pulled the first out of the cooler and onto the cot. They are wrapped in white plastic body bags, sometimes taped closed, sometimes not. I opened the bag and checked the toe tag, yep, right person. I commented that I didn't know how she could not wear gloves. I wear gloves to touch anything and everything. She said it didn't bother her so much. Boy was she proven wrong. After we got the person on the cot, she realized there was some liquid pooling and she didn't want the bag to somehow break and then there'd be a lot of cleanup, so she was going to drain the liquid into the prep room sink. She opened the bag and immediately started gagging. Let me tell you about Crematory Girl, since I never have, only before about her boss Crematory Guy. She's 47-55, somewhere in there, 6'0", skin, bones, and crazy scraggly grey roots with strawberry blonde to strawberry hair. Big hair, frizzy hair, usually uncombed and sticking out everywhere. She wears silly clothes. I mean silly. Sometimes she wears super short mini skirts. Sometimes all black (I wear all black, but it's a nice turtleneck with slacks and it looks good), but her shades of black don't match and anyway it's just all wrong to wear black denim. Sometimes she wears a white cotton bustier under this little white shirt and she has tinier boobs than me, which means they're almost non-existent. Now, I am not a fashionista, and in fact I have on many occasions been sent back to my room by husband and/or children and told not to come out in that same outfit, so I'm in no way ridiculing Crematory Girl. However, I desperately want to submit her name to "What Not to Wear", if anyone needs it, she does. She's also very tough, been in this industry for many years in the same type of capacity that she's in now. She picks up and drives dead folk around and then cremates them, it's not for the weak of heart. I don't know why I felt the need to describe her, it really adds nothing but verbage to my story and it's not even that great a story. The person on the cot was purging (stuff liquifies sort of and comes out nose, mouth, ears) and it was the most horrible smell you can imagine. I knew it was bad the second I saw CG gag. Nothing fazes her. I said close that up, what are you doing? She opened it wider. She was gagging, but she wanted to make sure it didn't leak inside the cot bag or, worse, inside her van so she wanted to drain it. She still didn't have on gloves by the way. I was beginning to chuckle when the smell hit me. Oh my goodness. It was horrific. Just when I think I may be able to do this job, something like that. I started to gag. Vomit was actually in my throat but I was determined not to throw up in front of her. She started to laugh and then so did I. It was the most insane reaction, but we both got a serious case of the giggles. It's almost as if our (our in general not just me and her) minds shut off when something is so horrid and our natural defense is to pretend what's in front of us isn't actually what's in front of us. We both laughed and gagged and tried hard not to vomit and laughed some more. I had to get the citrus spray, it was so bad. Then we added another layer of plastic rather than try to drain the liquid and we taped it closed. Of course I was laughing so hard by then, that I couldn't get the tape to stick to the bag, only to my own gloves, which just made us both laugh more. It was so not funny, a decomposing human being, but I haven't laughed so much in quite some time.

Services

2007-06-12T21:06:00.000-07:00

So last week I got the license and this week New FD is on vacation. He had last Thursday off and we got three new calls.
One direct cremation, easy, I scheduled that family for an afternoon appointment, it only takes about 45 minutes, super nice family made it even easier, plus the Mom was old, it just doesn't get any better.
Next was a traditional service with burial, a lot of work, so I scheduled that family for Friday when New FD would be back. Didn't matter beccause the family showed up twice anyway, once in the morning and once late afternoon. We planned the whole thing, but I told them New FD would verify that I'd done it right the next day. He gave me an "A" on Friday.
Then a third family also just showed up, it turned out to be cremation with memorial service. No one goes to the dentist without an appointment, but everyone thinks it's okay to go to a funeral home without one. Maybe it is okay, it just doesn't always work out that well for anyone to have time to talk to them. I digress, this family was an old Mom too, 94. Sure makes the whole process easier when someone gets to live a long full life. People are a little sad, but not grief-stricken.
Anyway, I did three arrangements on my first real day as an intern. Months to plan a wedding, and a few days to plan a funeral. It was pretty interesting from a work stand point. Pretty sucky from a human point of view. Well, family two was sucky. Not the people, they were awesome, but the situation. But that's a whole nother post.
Fast forward to this week, yesterday was the service and burial of Family 2. It was pretty large, I was pretty nervous. It was my first service to do alone, well, I guess that's not true, I did a service a couple months back, but it wasn't this big, and somehow it didn't hold the same significance to me. My mind is going faster than my fingers can and my thoughts are zipping around like crazy. Today was the cremation memorial service. Both services went well. I am pleased. Two folks sent off properly. There's so much I'm not saying and it's only important to me and not to anyone else, just mini-clips of yesterday and today playing thru my head. I don't even know what else to type.

Funeral Director Intern

2007-06-05T21:17:00.000-07:00

My license came in the mail yesterday. Guess I'm officially into a new career.

Well, um, uh, if I weren't actually making this whole blog up, that is.

Pets who come to my work

2007-06-05T20:54:00.000-07:00

First and most important is my little dog Corey. He spends time at my work on grooming days. The groomer comes to pick him up around 11am and then I get him from there after work. That's it, not exciting. I just like him to come to work with me.

Next is Isabelle. She's a Jack Russell Terrier. Her grandpa died and her mom brought her in while making some arrangements. Isabelle may be the best dog I've ever met (besides the above mentioned pet o' mine). Her mom said "I love you" to her and I kid you not, Isabelle said it back. It was a kind of howly, growly voice, but she definitely said I love you. Then she sang "Happy Bday to You". The whole song! She really did sing it. New FD and I were in shock. It was great fun. Her mom said she's won concert tickets from radio stations by getting Isabelle to talk or sing to them. Isabelle is also apparently a mouse tracker, so she wanted to go to every corner checking for mice. Her mom told her to stop, but New FD asked her to continue. Independent confirmation of our lack of mice is a good thing.

Willie is the fattest, longest, scabbiest, snorkiest weiner dog I've ever seen. His dad (mid 60s hippy with a PhD in Sociology or something) brought Willie in to say goodbye to his grandmother. His dad asked me to walk out to his car with him to carry some stuff in for his mother. I carried the "stuff" (child size rocking chair, three weird dolls from the 70s, sewing stuff, and stationary), while he pulled along fat Willie. As we entered the lobby, Willie launched into some kind of wheezing, coughing, spitting fit. His dad put his hands on his hips and snapped, "Willie you stop acting out like that and get in here." The family in the arrangement conference with New FD stared out the door at us, I promptly apologized, shrugged my shoulders, and closed their door. Willie went into the viewing room to say goodbye to his grandmother.

Finally, Patches is a black, long haired cat. She is Willie's "sister" and apparently Willie's dad left Patches in the viewing room with the grandmother. I had no idea she was in there. She's a cat. Cats do not care if someone dies or lives or anything. Well the cats I've had didn't anyway. I was very surprised to open the door with Willie and his dad to find Patches hissing at me from under a chair. Then the smell hits me. Then the dad, "Patches, did you shit the floor?" What????? This isn't a zoo. I look towards the casket. No, Patches did not shit the floor. She obviously stood on the edge of the casket to do her business, because there's the skidmark all the way down the front of the casket lining with a big pile on the floor in front of it. It stunk so bad. Willie's dad asked for a tissue. He picked it up and threw it in the garbage. It didn't help the smell at all. I was gagging. Ugh. I was so glad that cat did not scratch the old lady's face. I was so not amused.

Well-behaved pets like Isabelle: welcome.
Angry children like Willie and Patches: Not.

Coach, aka Hearse

2007-06-04T21:21:00.000-07:00

Some girlfriends were over the other night and I told this story and well i think it's probably better if you know what i look like. Not what my face looks like, that doesn't matter, but my size. I'm 5'4 1/2 " (yes the 1/2" is important to me) and I'm thin (ish), not as thin as I was, but who is? My husband thinks I'm short. I don't. I'd like to be 5'7" but that's probably not happening. I seem taller than a lot of women, okay mostly old women, but I don't think of myself as short or as small. Until, that is, I had to drive the coach. All of a sudden I felt like a very small woman.

We may have over booked ourselves. Well, this one was actually my fault, I didn't write a 10:00 service in our calendar, and then New FD scheduled a graveside at 10:30. Guess as it turns out, he can't be in two places at the same time. We called the other funeral home and they had no one available to help us out. They did have a coach available for us to use, just no driver. New FD looked at me. I looked at him. He smiled. I panicked. I said okay. As the day got closer, I got more nervous. The burial was at a national cemetery, so I didn't have to do anything but show up, they take care of the details. I was pretty worried though for several reasons. Getting lost, being late, getting in a wreck, all kinds of things could go wrong. I was very nervous.

Got up early. Dressed in the suit I now feel most comfortable in. It's a little heavy and it was a pretty hot day, but I feel the most confident in that suit, so i wore it. My prayer for the day was fairly simple; I didn't want to do anything wrong which would put attention on me instead of on the family and their grief. I wanted to fade into the background, which is the job of a funeral director, fading. It's why they wear black clothes, not because of their own mourning, but because it enables fading. Got to the office. Got my paperwork in order. Put the flag on the casket, New FD and I loaded it in the coach. And then it was time for me to go.

I got into the driver's seat and immediately felt like a small child in her papa's big chair. Black leather enveloped me, pure luxury with a great sound system. Buttons buttons everywhere. I looked around and adjusted the side mirrors. Hmm, there's glass in between me and the casket, just like a limo. I finally allowed myself to look out the rear view mirror. It took my breath away. The reflection was of a long dark rectangle. The back window is framed by curtains, which reduced my vision and elongated the overall image. What took my breath though was the contrast of the dark walls and ceiling against the flag draped casket. I've never seen red, white, and blue look so vivid. It was incredibly sobering. As if I weren't already aware of the importance of the task at hand, I was now without doubt that my cargo was indeed precious. This was no load of potatoes headed to market. A weight settled comfortably on my shoulders. I would deliver this man to his final resting place, where his family waited to say their goodbyes. I would send him on his last journey with my respect and humility. I started the engine and drove to the end of the lot. Looked for oncoming traffic, saw none, pulled out, right into the path of a grandma who switched into my lane at the last second. There was no way I could have guessed it, she didn't use a blinker, she just came over. I saw her in the rear view mirror. She raised her arms in the "what the f_?" pose, I closed my eyes and braced for impact. It never came. Thank God. I don't know how close she really was. I never figured out distance. I could see nothing in the lane to my right. Nothing. Nothing. When I needed to get over, I checked the mirror as though it would really make a difference, then I put on the blinker, counted to five (or six, or seven) and went over. It was terrifying. I tried to calm myself. My heart raced. On the freeway, across the river, off the freeway. Then traffic stopped. What? Oh, road construction, great. I crept along, they closed the right lane, that was okay, cuz I could see to get over to the left. My problem came when the right lane remained closed in front of my turnoff. It was completely blocked, I tried not to feel nervous, I was still early. Up ahead I saw a detour sign, it said nothing about the cemetery, just detour, but I took it anyway. I went through a curvy, hilly area, up and around, corners so sharp I thought I'd be too long for them. I breathed in and out and wouldn't allow nerves to overcome me, although they threatened, boy did they threaten. The detour cost me fifteen minutes, but I still got to the cemetery five minutes early, not much a time cushion, but still okay. I set the emergency brake and went into the office to let them know we'd arrived. I've talked to most of the folks up there but hadn't met any of them in person, they seemed nice enough, told me what to do, I just had to follow the cemetery guy's van, then the family who were already waiting in their cars in line would fall into place behind me. I went back out, hoped in the coach, started the engine and could not for the life of me find the e-brake release. There wasn't one. Anywhere. I finally panicked. Sort of. Not really out loud or in any visible way, but inside, I panicked. How could I get here and then not be able to make the darn car move. The cemetery guy came over to help. He couldn't. I called the funeral home, it did no good, since I'd turned the phones over to the answering service before I'd left. I called the other funeral home. Only two directors were in the office, neither knew how to release it. A little voice kept saying in my head, just get in and drive. I was yelling to the voice that that made no sense, I wouldn't be able to. I stuck my head under the dash and finally saw a tiny yellow lever, yanked it and the brake released. The cemetery guy couldn't believe it, neither did I. I got in, he got in his car, off we went. Sure enough, the family tucked in right behind me, just like he said they would. They had no idea that there was any driver malfunction. We drove through the cemetery and up to a shelter (like a gazebo) where the honor guard waited. I pulled forward and waited for the guy to close his fist. I was told he'd close it when I was supposed to stop. He never closed it. I stopped. He tapped the passenger window and told me to move up two feet, guess he never closed his fist because I'd not driven far enough ahead. I went to the back and opened the door. With my back to the family I asked him what to do. "Nothing, we'll do it, just stand there and look pretty." Hey, he wouldn't say that to a guy! What could I do though but stand there and look pretty. It's amazing to view the happenings from the "inside". I obviously had no attachment to the deceased, but the only other time I'd been to this cemetery was last year when Steve and I attended the funeral of his friend. So my feelings probably got a little mixed up with that. I get choked up everytime I hear the 21 gun salute and Taps, but the folding of the flag and presentation to the wife is the real tear jerker. It's such a beautiful tribute.

This post has turned into its own novel. And I could go on and on. During my drive back, I was a little less nervous. Incredibly relieved that everything was flawless from the family's point of view. Incredibly relieved. I was actually able to look around a little as I drove, not just tunnel vision straight in front of me, white knuckles gripping the wheel. I did notice that people gave the coach the right of way, that was weird. And I also noticed that no one looked at it as they passed. It was as if they stared straight ahead and didn't acknowledge a vehicle of death, they'd be better able to elude death themselves for one more day. No one looked at me. Okay, except for one guy. I didn't tell my girlfriends about him, but the look on his face was awesome. It's the same look they had when trying to picture me driving a hearse. I'm too small and the car's too big and I did look like a child in their papa's recliner. He glanced over. Then he gawked. His head swiveled, his jaw flew open. He was staring at me with a wide open mouth. I smiled, then laughed, then laughed a little manically. He stared more, actually slowed down to pace me for about 20 seconds. I could only laugh more, which added to his surprise for some reason, maybe I was supposed to frown. I realized that I am not the dork from Six Feet Under who creeps you out and who'd you expect to be driving a coach. I tossed my curly brown hair over my shoulder, looked ahead, and drove confidently back to the funeral home.

Confidentiality

2007-06-04T21:08:00.000-07:00

We got a "reminder" from the boss that we're not supposed to talk about anything that happens at work. We're especially not supposed to post work related items on the internet. So, here's my official disclaimer. I may have at some point in my life worked in the semi-conductor industry, but probably that's just something I've made up to throw readers off. And then I may have exchanged that all-head job for an all-heart job in the deathcare industry, but that's probably REALLY something I made up. So, officially this blog is straight from my imagination.

I'll try to remember that I began writing to express my thoughts, not just to rant about STUPID people, so I probably should just stick with my own feelings. Btw, STUPID did end up calling to tell on me. Only because his mom is now "circling the bowl" (the owner's words not mine). We agreed that if she dies and STUPID brings her to us (well, technically we'll go pick her up, he doesn't have to drive her) that if he or his wife, STUPIDER, call I'm to put them right on hold and get New FD to talk to them. Fine with me. I'm tired of them being mean and, of course, stupid.

STUPID

2007-05-22T21:18:00.000-07:00

STUPID's dad died while we were on vacation. I laughed very hard when it was one of the first things New FD said to me when I got back. Whew! I dodged that bullet. Then for some reason I decided to do a body count, cuz it just seemed like there were more than FD said there should be. Sure enough, there lay STUPID's dad on the top shelf of the cooler. I asked FD why he was still here and he thought I was joking. Hmm, apparently he thought Crematory Guy had taken dad while I was still gone. Nope, there he lay. So I called CG and sent him off. I was not happy. STUPID's wife called and wanted to know when they could pick up his remains. It was her turn to be not happy. I didn't care, I put her on hold and let FD talk to her. He told her sometimes there are hold ups at the doctor's office getting the death certificate signed (try again, they picked up the certified copies while i was gone, so they knew it wasn't the issue this time). He sweet talked her and hung up. The next day she called me back with STUPID conferenced in. Apparently he'd gone to the crematory to pick up the remains there but he said no one would open the door and they wouldn't answer the phone. They're both yelling at me, calling me names, feeding off each other's anger. I apologized for the inconvenience, try to make nice, hang up. Cry. Call CG and ask why they wouldn't open the door. STUPID didn't even go there he must have gone to the wrong place. CG is a little mad because FD arranged to have STUPID go to his business to begin with, he works for funeral homes not for the public. I'm stuck in the middle of something that should have been finished the week before and that didn't have anything to do with me. I hang up with CG. Cry. Can't believe I'm giving STUPID that kind of power over me. Talk with CG several more times. He arranged a pick up time for STUPID and it was done. I've not had to talk with him or his wife since. I sure hope they take STUPID's mother somewhere else when she dies. I won't deal with them. They're STUPID and mean. Very mean.

UPS guy

2007-05-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

I have a regular UPS guy. He's very professional, all business, doesn't want to talk about the weather, doesn't care to get to know me or allow me to get to know him. I'm chatty, I want to say hello, he just holds out the little signer thing. If I'm too smile-y, he says, "last name?", so that I'm reminded I'm not even important enough for him to remember my last name even though i've been telling it to him two or three or four times a week for a year.

Well, this week he came in with cell phone at his ear. It's a first and it's highly unprofessional. Then I hear, "You're not fat. You're not. You're five months..." He's cut off by the chattering at the other end, which I can hear. He raises his eyebrows at me.

I whisper, "You're more beautiful now than you've ever been." He puts his hand to his other ear as if asking me to repeat it, so I do, while signing my name on his little gadget.

UPS: "You're more beautiful now than you've ever been."
Wife: chattering

UPS: "No one told me to say it...."
Then he walks out the door before she could hear me bust out laughing.

The next day he told me she didn't buy it at all, she knew someone told him to say it. It made me smile.

Skin and STUPID

2007-05-05T06:56:00.000-07:00

I found out about the guy who's legs were on backwards. He was a bone marrow and skin donor and i guess it's easier to take the bones rather than try to extract the marrow. The new FD told me, but when I saw him yesterday I knew right away that his skin had been removed. Funny (weird, not haha) that i can recognize some things after a couple days but not so much right when it occurs. I guess now I know what fresh skin donation looks like though. It seems that I am slowly being indoctrinated into the world of embalming. However, there are a couple things I may not ever be able to do so it's still looking like embalming is out for me. Although I don't always notice the smell anymore and yesterday the new FD (no point giving him a name as I think he's quitting the first of July and there'll just be another one) went to the ME's office (medical examiner) to pick someone up and when he got back he didn't stink. Szechwan would smell to high heaven when she came back from there, so does Skip, but i didn't smell it on the new guy. Good thing as it was right before we went home and his wife and children would be grossed out. Well, if they could even smell it I guess. Back to the bone donation... I'm a donor myself and whatever is needed is up for grabs, but I hope my family never has to know what a mess I'll be afterwards. I keep reminding myself that the body on the prep room table is simply a shell and that if good can come out of death for those still living, well, they are still living.

STUPID came to my work this week. You may remember me ranting about him a ways back. Or not. I thought he and his wife were our 2:00 appointment, only early. But when he stuck out his hand to introduce himself, he said "Hello Miss Sunshine" (dripping sarcasm) and I right away knew who they were and before I even realized it I literally slumped down and said right out loud "not today I'm so swamped". Cuz we were. What a butthead to start out by not even bothering to call for an appointment and then insulting me. Grr. Let's see, he's STUPID and I tell him so on the phone and yet they still choose to come to our funeral home and then he's gonna start out hostile. Good idea. I'm like the drive thru fast food worker. I hold all the power here, dummy. I could pinch your dead mom if I wanted to, do you really want to make me mad? Like I would pinch anyone's dead mom, but it's kind of the theory behind it, ok, maybe I hold no power, cuz when i stop to think about it, anyone in their right mind would never think that their dead mom might get pinched if they pissed off the office girl. Dang, not even the power of a drive thru worker! What kind of job is this anyway? Anyway, STUPID proved himself by bringing in a copy of the letter I sent him along with only a portion of the paperwork he needed to fill out. Three (THREE) times he said, "no one ever told me that", and then I'd read his copy of the letter out loud to him, and he'd say "oh, well we still need to get that". His wife my have been even STUPIDER, however I smiled and spoke with them as nicely as I possibly could, which was in reality thinly veiled hostility of my own. Perhaps his parents will outlive my position at this particular funeral home. One can only hope. STUPID asked me if I were a part owner there as he was trying to sneak one of my business cards in an attempt to frighten me that he was going to tell on me. I boldly told him "nope, I only work here" and reached across my desk for another card to hand to STUPIDER, "you may want one too. My manager's name is The Boss." (insert real name). After they left, I called The Boss and told him they were there. He laughed very hard that they'd actually still chosen us after my initial analysis of their family dynamics. He laughed even harder to think they may call him to tell on me. He's a very good boss.

Today I am...

2007-05-02T15:45:00.000-07:00

Today I am
*Wrestling a printer, which happens to be kicking my butt.
*Supposed to be printing out next weeks statements, since I will be gone next week (Hawaii, Hawaii, here we come!) But I can't print out the statements, grr.
*supposed to be inputting into Excel the last old files which I pulled out of the moldy gross shed behind the funeral home. Somehow I missed about three boxes last fall and the shed leaked like a sieve all winter long. Now mold is growing everywhere. I'm not kidding, there are really weird mushroomy, squiggly, brown, plastic-y things growing on the floors and the walls. I've been letting these last files dry out across tables and of course I'm sneezing like crazy since I decided to bring those mold spores into the building. Anyway, i'm supposed to be going through old files and I haven't yet.
*tired

Today I feel
*happy to hear from my son who had hernia outpatient surgery this morning. He sounded totally drugged and somewhat relaxed. Now his mom can relax. When are kids too old to have their mother's present at medical procedures? apparently he thinks 23.

Today I saw
*a wonderful gentleman who came in for a preneed. He walks with a cane, since he recently fell and broke his ankle. He's healing remarkably well for 82. I wouldn't have put him a day past 70.
*another gentleman who's foot was on backwards. When I looked more closely, I realized both feet/legs were kind of on backwards. I asked Skip if it was a car accident that killed him. He said "no, it was Dancing With the Stars". He didn't look up, he didn't smile, he didn't stop working. I felt a little queasy so I came back to my desk.

Today I heard
*a story about a dead guy who got one last strip-tease. After the service, everyone was asked to leave the chapel. One lady stayed. The music started and she danced for him. Hmm... and the point is?

Correction to last post!

2007-05-02T09:20:00.000-07:00

My husband is not "old". He is very young and very handsome with not one gray hair. He lifts weights every morning and runs five miles before eating lunch. He only eats healthy food, no junk. He swims and bikes before dinner and then finishes his days pleasing me.

Is that better? ;)

ponderings

2007-05-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

I've wondered for the past couple weeks about my motives in working at this job. It's not been fun. I am realizing that part of my uncertainty stems from blogger. I read the posts of complete strangers and what I like about it is the glimpse into someone else's life. It's like looking in open windows at night while driving down my street. I can see furniture and pictures on the wall and the occasional person in the midst of some mundane task. Once I even saw a naked lady walking across her living room. (Steve almost turned the car around so he could see.) I like looking in windows while driving. I like reading other people's ponderings. I was glued to one blog in particular, the sad reality of cancer. At work, it's kind of the same. I am looking into the window of someone's life when they are at their most difficult time. But I don't just drive by, I become an active participant, however small the role and however short the time span. They trust me and I try very hard to get it right. I've thought since I got this job that I am right where I am supposed to be. I believe that this is where God wants me and that I am making a difference to some of the folks who come through my doors. But I've been recently plagued with wondering if that's just what i want to believe and what if I'm a freak who enjoys looking into the pain of others. What if it's all hogwash and I'm just lookin' in windows? In the past couple of years almost everything in my life has changed, while it has mostly stayed the same and i know that doesn't make any sense but it's the most true statement I can make. I've always had relationship issues, believe me, I've done my time on the couch. Now in my life I have four women, four friends, who I get together with every week. We are sharing a part of our lives and it's completely new to me. Now in my life I have an amazing marriage with the same old husband. Now in my life we have "couple friends", there are dinners and visits and game playing and even a weekend trip to the beach. Now in my life, we have young adult children who I'm developing new adult friendships with. Always before in my life there have been walls erected to prohibit true intimacy. No close close friends. And I got a little stuck wondering if I'm "for real" in my relationships at home and at work. It's so easy for me to fall back into the habit of erecting barriers. Way to easy to view work families as potential stories. Easier to read blogs than to pick up the phone and call one of my girlfriends. Easier to think of a humorous tale than to think of the reality that someone's life just ended and the family is never going to be the same again. I've really questioned why i'm doing what I'm doing and I don't fully have an answer. We buried the mother of a lady who attends my church last Friday. I've spent hours with this lady over the past three weeks (it was the best planned funeral ever) but I don't really know her. I share a faith with her and it was a great experience for me to see the faith of their whole family, the hope they had even in death. But I don't really know her. I know the daughter of the beautiful lady I buried who wanted everything to be just right for her mom. But her? Not so much. Maybe it's the next step in my learning curve. Tomorrow I'm planning to call her. I'll ask how she's doing and maybe I'll even get up the nerve to see if she wants to have lunch. I've called other people the week after the funeral and one lady I've checked back in with a few times in recent months. For now I will accept that I'm not just looking in windows. That for some who come through my door, the process has been a little easier than if it were someone else sitting at my desk. I will accept that other times I really am a freak in a crazy weird job where I can do nothing but stand gaping at the incredible beings with whom I share this earth. And I guess I can also accept that sometimes a person will be changed when they leave my office. And maybe once in a while that person will be me.

watch alarms

2007-04-12T10:53:00.000-07:00

There was a nicely attended service a couple weeks ago. Rather formal, a little stodgy. About halfway through, someone's watch alarm starts going off. The FD looks down in a panick that it's his watch. Whew, it's not. The chaplain glances down at his, nope not him either. The FD is a little annoyed that whoever's it is, they aren't shutting it off. I know, I know, you can see where this is going... Yep, the watch was right up front, in the casket. It just kept going all through the service. Afterwards the FD checks the guy's arms. No watch. Checks his pockets. No watch. Which can only mean one thing. Someone tucked it under him during the viewing. The pall bearers are waiting at the back of the chapel, so FD can't just pull the guy towards him and get the watch out from under him. So, he does what anyone would do. He closed the casket, called the pall bearers forward, and they carried out the casket, alarm and all.
Someone got a private chuckle out of their little joke. It made me happy for the dead guy, well, I'm assuming that it was done in fun, and that were he alive, he'd get the biggest kick of all out of it. I imagine him smiling to himself. Pleased that he'd passed on a little happiness.

bla bla blog 2

2007-04-11T20:52:00.000-07:00

I forgot one "award". Dang it. Although you could have seen the link on the side. Sheri of Days of Deerledge entertains me. I have a favorite Sheri quote, which I shared with Steve and we both had a great laugh as it fits us too. Sheri and her husband were adding a closet to their home: "We come home and get to work. I play the usual role: Gopher Gal. He plays his usual role: Lord of I Know It All. They are roles we both are very good at from many, many years of practice and perfection. " This is so us. Funny how men and women, husbands and wives, all of us, we're more alike than we are different. Thanks for the fun reading, Sheri.

bla bla blog

2007-04-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

hmm, so I think i'm almost an official blogger, except that I haven't really figured out much about how to add pictures or fancy stuff and I doubt I'll take the time to learn, so maybe I'm not a real blogger after all. If blogger is even a real term, not some stupid thing that I just wrote. One psychiatrist in my past labeled me a narcissist. What did he know? Perhaps though, in the blogging world, it may be true as I've only recently discovered that anyone besides me writes about their lives. I was fairly certain that google set up this whole website so I'd have a place to record my thoughts, it didn't really occur to me that the rest of you were out there doing the same thing. I think I've figured out that blogger may be the equivalent of the prepubescent myspace. It seems to me that 90% of (the 15 or so) blogs I've read are written by women around my age.

Yesterday I sent an email to my sister at the exact same time that she was sending an email to me asking the same thing, "are we still on for dinner tomorrow?". It was weird, like our sister-esp was working.

That thing about my sister had nothing to do with anything, it just popped into my head. So back to the blogging thing. Catch from A Penny for My Thoughts (see the sidebar link) was very complimentary about my pencil scratchings. It's fun. So, since I'm not so sure how to add links here and even less sure that I care to take the time to learn, I'll just say that the links in my sidebar are the blogs I read. I'm not so great at commenting, but I read them and enjoy them immensely. Not all of them make me think... like Just for Humor, that's for plain old fun. It makes me laugh. But Snickollet (i could be spelling it wrong) makes me think alot. Catch makes me laugh quite a bit. I really enjoy her mix of humor and daily reality. I love how Sayre of Sayre Smiles examines herself. I especially liked her post about her stride. Having worked in a clean room in the semiconductor industry for years, I recognize many people by the way they walk. Her post reminded me of what our walks say about us.

So that's about as close as I get to an award ceremony. It's not technically pretty, but in the spirit of the blogging community, it's my stab at participation. :) So maybe I am a narcissist. Maybe.

quiet end to the week

2007-04-06T11:47:00.000-07:00

The week ends quietly. Whew. I'm thinking of getting a little bistro set to put on the front porch. I could sit out there with my laptop and a diet coke. I mentioned to my manager that I need a wireless connection. He laughed and said "uh-huh". This was mentioned after I called to see if I could lock the front door, turn the phones over to the answering service and go get some lunch with one of my coworkers. He really laughed and said he wouldn't care. Somehow I think if i actually did it, he would. The DC courier (guy who gets death certificates from me, takes em to a doctor for signing, then picks them up once signed and takes them to the health department for filing) said I could sit on the porch in shorts and tshirt. When a family comes up, I tell them to go right in, then I run around the building as fast as I can; sneak in the back door; pull a black dress over my head; kick off my flip flops and jump into some heels; pull my hair into a bun and then walk into the arrangement office like I've been there all along. It sounds like a good plan to me. I think it could work. Maybe I could set up a walk-through perfume mister for right after i slip into the dress.
Skip and I were talking about getting a bbq in the back. There's no shortage of fresh meat.

Ha! Gross! Yuck! and all that. It sure made me laugh when he said it.

A guy from a competitor funeral home came over yesterday to get some prayer cards. I showed him around, he was pleased with how things looked. I guess he did an internship here many years ago. It was fun to meet someone new and also good for the networking portion of my job in case i wanna work somewhere else. Plus I'm awful curious about the type of people who work in this field. Mostly they are surprisingly not what I thought they'd be. He was. There was a young funeral director on "Six Feet Under" (HBO) who had a crush on Ruth. He was weird and awkward and a little frightening. This was the guy I met yesterday with about twenty years and twenty pounds added. I was greatly entertained.

guess i better finish up this Good Friday. I'm so ready to go home and it's not even quite lunchtime yet. Dyed Easter eggs with my oldest grandson last night. His hands were pink up to his wrists. What a riot.

april 4

2007-04-04T13:40:00.000-07:00

how's that for a title "April 4", you can see my originality shining through. Today is better than yesterday. Today i'm back to hating stupid people. It's an easier place to be. Thanks for the kind thoughts shared with me. I have to say again, it's really weird to me that anyone besides my husband reads this. Brianaldo, you make me smile, thank you for making today better for me.

So, I may have lost two preneeds and I say "Good for Noelle". My manager told me to send em to someone else closer to them anyway. It's a man who has power of attorney for his parents and he wants to do everything by phone, fax, mail. That's okay if he'd do what i tell him to do or if he'd read what i send him, which he doesn't. So everytime I talk to him (which has been about ten times since the 11th of January) we start over fresh. Today I wasn't playing well with others. I said he just needed to come in, we'd go over the paperwork, we'd be finished in 20 minutes and it wouldn't have to drag out any longer. I hope they go somewhere else. I'm tired of playing around. It's his parents. I'm sorry if he thinks he can't spend an hour and a half including drive time to take care of this. I'm also sorry that he and his wife don't communicate as i've explained the whole process to her about four times. He thanked me for the evaluation of his family situation. I don't know if I'll hear from him again. Good for Noelle. Very good for Noelle.

tuesday

2007-04-03T12:04:00.000-07:00

I am unable to stop crying and i don't know why. It's noon. I'm at work. I have a lot of work to do. I don't know what the heck is going on. Two families were waiting for me when I got here. One young man to pick up his mom's urn, she was only 54, cancer. His dad died earlier in the year, also cancer. I don't know how old the son is, but he seems to be late 20s. I can not fathom how hard this year has been for him.
Another lady was here to choose a marker for her mother. She was a JERK when she was here before for the arrangement conference. The new FD and I analyzed her after she left, did she love her mother at all or was she overwrought? We judged and found her lacking. Today she was humble and appreciative, just a daughter who lost her mother and for a little while has lost her own way. She gave me a hug when she left.
A viewing for a veteran, his family was here all morning. Also a young-ish guy, 62, very handsome. His wife is so kind and so very gentle. His children are in their 20s and also obviously well-bred, that sounds odd, i don't know how to say it. I stand at the door to my office as they wheel his flag-draped casket to the front door. I always stand as they go by, how could I not. The pall bearers take him off the church truck (new word of the day for you, it's what the rolling stand is called under caskets) and place him into the coach (remember, we don't say hearse). His family is gathered around. It's the saddest part for me, the placing of the casket into the coach. It gets me everytime.
Then I have to hurry in and fill three necklace pendants with remains for a woman who'll be here soon. I hate those darn things. I still need a sieve. I don't have one. The ash is all over me and i can't wash it off. It's in the curves of my fingerprints, even though I've scrubbed. I can look down and see it. I can smell it. It clings to me, super glued to my fingertips. I used the metal polish to buff the pendants. The company sent the polish with them. It etched them and now they look horrible. I've tried to buff them back to a shine. I can't. I got a little glue on the top of one and i try to scrape it off with my fingertip. It seems that the ash is stuck in the grooves of the pendant and it won't come out of there either. I know I'm freaking out and i can't stop. Realistically the ash is gone but i can see it and smell it and I really need it to go away right now.

Skip just got here. With the baby. Her parents will be back anytime, they've gone over to the big funeral home but are coming back here. The baby is tiny on the prep room table. The mom wanted to bring her here from the hospital. She couldn't bear to part with her precious little girl. The mom and the grandma both are beside themselves. I cried with them yesterday. Today, I will try not to. Although i don't know how i won't as i can't stop already. I must look a fright, as Skip just stared at me with his silent appraisal. Did I say yesterday was his first day back? He had a heart attack two weeks ago. He's not supposed to be embalming, cuz he shouldn't be lifting anyone, but he's stubborn and he refuses to stand around "just doing services". It's probably less stressful to be in the prep room anyway. Although I don't think it's the stress his doctor's worried about, but the healing incision where they went into his femoral artery to give him a stint in a heart artery, how's that for technical? I'm glad he's back. I missed him more than i'd realized.

Dang, the baby's family just walked in. What in the world am I doing here?

boredom

2007-03-28T14:27:00.000-07:00

I don't think i ever said that Schewan quit. She and her husband had been living in different states, and she decided to go home and focus on her marriage rather than her career. I was just talking to her on the phone. She's thinking about becoming an optician. Mortician/optician, just move some letters around and it'll be a whole new career. So i got a new funeral director, but he only comes over here from the main funeral home to make arrangements or to do funerals, he doesn't stay over here. I get pretty bored trying to entertain myself sometimes. You can only search the web so much. This chapel is such the red-headed stepchild. While i was eating lunch, I scanned the newspaper and there was an article about pre-planning funerals, with a huge full page ad for the other funeral home. One tiny sentence that they also own this one. Hey, what about getting me some business??? We get a business card size ad in the thrify nickel. What the heck kind of advertising is that? Of course i'm gonna get the bottom of the barrel clientell if they only advertise once in a great while and i'm right next to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet coupon. Get a buck off your lunch and then call for a low-cost cremation. If you turn the page you could get your gutters cleaned at a discount as well. Give me some work!

travels

2007-03-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

Steve leaves again this morning to go to his office. He has about a three hour commute from our home to the airport to another airport to his offfice. Generally he's gone M-F, but I got to see him for an extra day this weekend and he's not leaving till this morning. I hate it when he leaves. I'm okay once he's gone and arrived there safely, but i hate the saying goodbye part. Probably even more because of my job, but I always worry a little, what if this is the last time i see you. What if you don't come home for some horrible reason. I can picture his funeral, of course I'd have it here, at my work. I picture who would come from which different walk of our life together. I feel the loss as if it's already happened. All this occurs in the ten minute drive to the funeral home after saying goodbye. I have to shake myself out of it, remind myself that he's made this trip hundreds of times, and that even if he were home with me tonight, I still wouldn't be guaranteed tomorrow with him. It's not that i think these thoughts everytime he leaves, only once in a while, thankfully. Only today I wondered, what if it's me who doesn't go home? Weird. We have all these plans and all these ideas about how we'd like to spend the next few months, years, decades, but i guess everyday i'm faced with people who had those same plans. Grrr. Today is a rainy GRAY day and i'm ready to go back home and crawl under the covers.

What I've learned in a year

2007-03-23T10:26:00.000-07:00

1. Sitting at a desk all day adds inches to my butt.
2. I hate having to check a person in the morning of their second day of viewing to be sure their eyes and mouth are still closed and to be sure no liquid has escaped their lips or nose.
3. I really hate having to then close their eyes or mouth.
4. I really, really hate having to then wipe up any liquids.
5. Mean people do suck.
6. There's a difference between grief and just plain butthead. I don't mind when someone isn't at their best and is forgetful or a little short and it's obvious that they are in pain. I do mind when someone uses death as an excuse to be the angry jerks that they already are.
7. I don't like smelling like a dead person. It sometimes sticks in my nose even after i go home and change clothes.
8. I feel tired alot and it's not so much physical.
9. I feel immensely satisfied that my tiredness may have just helped someone else be less tired themselves.
10. I'm still learning. Every day.
11. Fighting siblings should be shot, no matter their age.
12. EVERYONE thinks funerals should be free.
13. My husband is amazingly patient and supportive, allowing me to yak for hours when a family has really gotten to me or just holding me and letting me "be" when I'm sad or laughing with me at some stupid stuff that goes on here.
14. Every piece of paper in every archive file cabinet, book, or box represents a human life and I am awed by the numbers of pages.
15. We each face our maker after this. Doesn't really matter if we believe it or not. We still meet Him.
16. All military wives KNOW their husbands can still fit into their service uniforms, which they wore when they were 20.
17. Doors do open by themselves.
18. Occassionally someone listens in on my phone calls (I see the line light up from the other -empty- office), has called one particular lady at least twice (she's starting to get a little freaked out), and answers the phone when i'm talking on the first line but doesn't speak to the caller.
19. People in this industry are a little twisted (myself included??).
20. This is my second career. I still don't know what my third will be.

old men

2007-02-02T12:56:00.000-08:00

His wife died on the way to the hospital. Heart attack, probably. Undetermined natural causes officially. I called the doctor's office to get them to sign the death certificate. The nurse couldn't believe she was dead, woman was in two weeks ago for annual physical and very healthy. Just a little hypertension, not even very high. She called me back to verify i had the right woman, she just couldn't believe it. Well, her disbelief was nothing compared to his. He could barely walk, barely talk, barely move. He was so overwhelmed with grief. His (grown) children came with him to make her arrangements. The children were more worried about him than about her, they couldn't help her and it seemed they may not be able to help him either. It broke my heart, I couldn't keep from crying everytime I was with them. Schewan either. Aaay.

Little boys

2007-01-31T14:12:00.000-08:00

He was five years old. Died of aspiration (the entry of secretions or foreign material into the trachea and lungs ) after vomiting in the night. He was a mouth breather, maybe his nasal passages weren't fully formed, i don't know. Been in and out of foster care all of his life. Mom hadn't seen him the past couple years, busy working and drugging. I tried to dislike her, I really did. The social worker found her almost a week after he died after going from place to place and asking if she worked there. His was the stripper funeral. The boy was the victim. The mom was the stripper. His brain never fully formed due to the drugs while in utero. Schewan and I were so angry with her. What kind of person could this woman be. Obviously a monster. The anger was short lived. Mom's been on her own since she was 12, eeking out a living however she could. Her mother is a mental patient herself due to her own overdose. It's overwhelmingly sad and the anger (sort of) dissipated. Still anger for the boy, but not so much directed towards the mom. The social worker fought like you wouldn't believe for funding for the boy's service and burial. We've yet to see the money, but we did get a fax that the state is paying. It's weird. I feel like I'm rambling. I had to measure him for the casket. Schewan was out, so Skip helped me. He was the same size as my 3 year old grandson. Thick curly hair and eyelashes to die for. I wanted to hug him. Instead I measured him, then left his face uncovered, and we pushed his shelf back into the fridge. Babies don't belong on refrigerator shelves.
She wore a long black dress to the funeral. She came early, right when we opened. Going back and forth about whether she wanted to view him. Schewan made her. Well, she didn't make her, just explained how beneficial it would be, if she even just saw his hand, something so that her eyes could tell her heart that he was gone. She brought in a carload of teddy bears. We put them all around the casket. It was only us in the building, Schewan, me, Mom, and social worker. I wanted to leave the building myself. She went into the chapel and Schewan went with her to the front. Schewan held her for awhile until Mom had the courage to stand by herself. Then Schewan came out and the wailing began. Deep gutteral grief. Keening is the word that keeps coming into my mind. I can hear it still as if it were happening as I type. I can't erase the sound. It's inside me and it keeps replaying and i can't make it stop. It's not my grief, I keep reminding myself. Let go of it. The service went well. Odd and sometimes inappropriate, but well. Everyone left except the social worker, who was helping us pick up all the bears, everyone brought one. Schewan couldn't make the toy work. It was a musical thing and Mom wanted us to put it in the casket, so that when he was buried, the music would still be playing. We couldn't make it work, so i found a screw driver, removed the battery cover and put in new batteries. I turned it on and music finally played. I was trying so hard to put the cover back on, but my hands were shaking and I started sobbing. The social worker had stepped into my office, but then didn't know what to say, so she apologized and stepped back out. The mother's keening mixed with the music box "twinkle, twinkle little star" in my head and I couldn't make it stop. Apparently, I wasn't the only one struggling, cuz Schewan was teary as well. I put the toy in his casket and we pushed him out to the coach (hearse). The social worker thanked me. I told her to fight for the live ones as hard as she's fought for this one. She promised she would. Schewan drove him to the cemetery. The music played as the dirt dropped down.

things that make you (ok maybe just me) go hmmm...

2007-01-14T12:32:00.000-08:00

1. Why autopsy someone who died after being hit by a log truck?
2. Can some people really see dead people?
3. Why is it so dang cold in here today when the heat is cranked up and the sun is shining?
4. Why do people assume we should cremate/bury/etc their family member for free? It's your brother! Pay the dang bill!
5. Do dogs really need headstones?
6. Even though it's not my grief, how come I'm still so sad?

stripper funeral

2007-01-09T11:36:00.000-08:00

One small coffin.
Many semi-clad, inappropriately dressed women.
Strung out.
Loaded.
Tight butts.
Awesome guitar playing.
Uncomfortable.
Spike heels with red soles.
Disgust.
Sympathy.
Rap music.
Surprising empathy.
Wailing.
Keening.
Cigarette smoke.

Native American funeral

2007-01-01T19:59:00.000-08:00

He doesn't look like a Native American to me. He looks Italian. Later I find out I'm right. His father-in-law came through here about three weeks ago. His wife is a basket case. Losing her dad and her husband within such a short time. I wonder if she's not a basket case on a good day though. She's not very nice. Plus she doesn't want to pay. I don't get that. He's got $50,000 life insurance policy, plus a 401k and she still doesn't want to pay. The insurance is unassignable, which means I have to wait for her to get paid and then hope she pays us. She owes less than two grand, cheapskate. So cheap that they said they only wanted a viewing. Funny that everyone showed up to "view" at the same time. Maybe fifty, maybe seventy-five people all show up at the same time. It was so weird. I think Schewan and I got a little stoned, just enough to be giggly, which is not how our relationship is at all. They were smoking pot in the chapel, I know they were, but I couldn't catch them. Not that I tried very hard, but it was just all so weird. Ok, let me start right. 55, male, Italian, married to a woman who may at sometime have been related to someone who may have possibly been Native American, cause of death is pending toxicology reports. So the wife wouldn't come in to make arrangements and wouldn't return our calls. The deceased's brother made initial contact with us and said they wanted viewing, no service, followed by cremation. Schewan talked to the wife on the day he died and she agreed, but then she never called back or brought in clothes or anything till the day before the viewing. Of course, that was Schewan's day off, so i had to deal with the woman. Did I say she wasn't nice? Her friend wasn't either. Only one of the three women who came in was nice. Grief is one thing, but manners are just plain required. So they asked me to braid his hair in a warrior braid. What? Part down the middle, two braids like an Indian Chief, take a little hair from both braids at the crown of the head and braid it, then pull it forward to lay over his shoulder atop one of the regular braids. I'm not describing that well. The warrior braid isn't tied off at the bottom because that would somehow inhibit his warrior-ness. Anyway. I braided his hair after Skip did the rest. The next morning Schewan and I were trying to put his shirt on him. She didn't want to cut the back of it, I don't know why, well i do but it's a story in itself and not all that interesting. Maybe it is, but i'm not gonna tell it. So it's a pullover, he's a big (BIG) guy and he's been dead for a week. He's not all that helpful, mostly just lays there being completely UNhelpful and non-flexible. We finally get it on him, amid much shoving, tugging, swearing, and laughter. It's a wannabe Indian shirt. Weird. Schewan puts some rubber nickers on him, cuz they didn't bring him any pants or underwear, just a shirt. He's a table view, so no casket, just nice blankets and a pillow under his head. It's not real common to do it that way, but it saves a family money and we don't care, it still looks nice. Well, unless someone lifts the blanket and sees that he's got no pants on. I'm making this too long and drawn out, yawn. He's on the table, in the chapel, there's a lot of peace pipe passing, and then the drums start. One solid hour of drumming and chanting and sort of like singing. It was very cool. I called Steve and held the phone out, so he could hear. He couldn't, but he did say Schewan and i were kinda giggly. ;) I don't know if there was any true Native American in the bunch, but they sure did respect the culture and it sounded awesome. I saw a commotion in the lobby and looked out of my office door. A young woman was crying, wailing really, over the drumming. Another young woman was trying to get to her to calm her down. Suddenly she yells out, "They all think he was such a good guy, but he wasn't, it's not true!" The other gal says, "Let it go, honey, he's dead now, he can't hurt you any more." A little more wailing, people start staring. A little louder..."he can't hurt you again", just as the drumming stops. The whole place went silent in response to this young lady freaking out about a dad who can no longer do to her whatever he has done to her. I wonder how she fits in the picture, first marriage? I don't think his wife is her mom. Family dynamics, ain't they grand. Crematory guy gets here and he's supposed to help me get the guy out of the chapel, he's supposed to be taking him with him, but he's got a full van, so will have to come back. Of course, we don't tell the family that, they think he's going now. We open the office door to go get him, the young woman comes in, "Can I have a pair of scissors to cut a lock of my dad's hair?" I look at Crematory Guy, he looks at me. What can I do? I give her the scissors. She opens her jacket and puts them in an inside pocket. Crap. I ask her why doesn't she wait and cut his hair in the back hallway with us, if she doesn't want anyone to see her. She says okay and I say I'll give you the sign of when. She goes in the main door of the chapel, we go to the back door. Someone says, don't take him yet, his daughter needs a moment alone with him. We look up and sure enough he means the daughter with the scissors. They send everyone out of the chapel except her. I was terrified and wanted to remind her that she can be charged with mutilation of a corpse. I pull Schewan out of the arrangement room where she's meeting with another family and ask her what to do. She says there's nothing we can do, just let her do what she's gonna. Crematory Guy and I wait five minutes, then we go back in. We're taking him, we don't care what they say. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I saw that his braids were still there and there weren't any gaping wounds on his chest with scissors sticking out. We begin to push him out, I meet the daughter's eyes, she shakes her head no, she won't meet us in the back hall. We shove him in the back room. I see that someone has given him two packs of Camels and a lighter. I think to myself how he'll never know if I take them. I haven't smoked in 15 years and today, right now, I want a cigarette so badly I'm willing to steal them from a dead guy! I left them. Crematory Guy snuck out the back. Schewan finished with her new family. I (graciously) kicked out the Indian tribe. And then we began the glamorous job of vaccuming. oh boy.

Grandson

2006-12-19T16:48:00.000-08:00

My son and his wife and their two boys were here today. Only my daughter-n-law had been here before, not the others. Their oldest boy was two last September. He's been a story teller for about a month now. Able to string several sentences together to get his point across. Usually it's stories about motorcross racing. "My daddy racing motorcycles. I racing. I fall down. I crying." Or my daddy falls down and he's crying, some variation of this story is what I've heard him say before. Today he wasn't here but a couple minutes before he started asking about the baby crying. Why is the baby crying. We were in the hospitality room eating crackers and cheese. He looked up towards the ceiling, smiled, and said, "He's smiling at me." Then he became obsessed with the baby who was crying. He went out of the hospitality room, straight down the hall, and to the door to the back, which was locked. He was mad cuz his mom wouldn't let him in. He came back to the hospitality room, but still wouldn't let it go. He kept saying the baby was crying, then he went to the door at the back of the hospitality and tried to get in the back area. Finally I said I would take him back there because he was getting upset at the baby crying. His mom told him the baby's mom would take care of him. I told him Jesus was taking care of the baby. He didn't care, he wanted to see the baby himself, so it could stop crying. He wanted to hold it, like he holds his baby brother. It was weird. We went in the back and he stood by the refrigerator and pointed to the top of it. He was saying baby up there. Then he ran to the outside back door and said the baby went out it. All from a two year old perspective, all freaking my son out completely. My daughter-in-law didn't seem to mind, she believed he was really hearing a baby. I have no reason to doubt it. I told my manager about it when he came over to bring me a Christmas ham. He thought it was very interesting and he right away thought of the urn I found back there of a baby who died in the early 1900s and we just recently had it buried. I hadn't even thought of that baby. My manager said that the first time he sees something, he's done with this industry. It made me laugh. The whole incident made me curious.

power outage in a funeral parlour

2006-12-14T15:51:00.000-08:00

I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. Losing power in here is not fun. It is completely unnecessary and need not happen again. Huge storm today. Lights flashed once, then again, then finally went out. It was DARK in here. Phones didn't work either. I locked the front door and was walking to the back (thru the DARK) to get to the flashlight (DUH, why do we keep it back there???) when the door between the hospitality room and the back room closed. What??? No one's here but me, so moments before i was just annoyed at the darkness, only now my heart is pounding and my mind is racing and it's all I can do to open the door. The alarm is beeping, so I gotta go back there, stop the beeping and call the company before they send out the calvary. I was a little shaky, ok very shaky, but mostly pissed with myself for reacting so immaturely. I doubt that dead people care if lights are on or off and I really doubt that spirits have been waiting the whole time I've worked here for a power outage so they could finally get me! But still, I was shaking. I go in the back and there stands Skip in his finest embalming regalia cussing the alarm and trying to make it hush. I was startled and very pleased to see him there. We silenced the alarm. Got the flashlight, lit some candles (it's a funeral home, we do have plenty candles) and had a seance. Not really, no seance. Just hung out for forty-five minutes till the lights came back on. We sat in my office and both could have easily dozed off. I know I'm still having a hard time staying awake. It wasn't so bad with the lights off in here. I'm glad there were no families in here at the time. I could imagine how that would freak them out entirely! Guess I better get a little work done!

Party, the day after

2006-12-08T10:28:00.000-08:00

The party was fine. Bearable. I panicked at the last minute and stopped to buy a new jacket on the way home from work. Absolute last minute, I decide I have nothing to wear. Why did I care and why did I wait till the last minute to care? I brought home two jackets and told Steve to pick one. He was mildly amused, I think.
I have a bit of a headache. Only two drinks, but I didn't specify a brand, so I'm sure I got the cheap vodka. My system is not used to drinking, much less drinking cheap alcohol. Sigh.
I think Steve was disappointed to not hear any shop talk. There was some at the other end of our table, but he was engaged in another conversation and I don't believe he heard it. i'm glad, cuz it was the re-hashing of yesterday's service, which was for the mom and two sons. I guess it was one of the worst Schewan has ever been to and apparently the other directors felt the same.
Anyway, the party is over. The thanks have been said and only a slight headache remains.

company Christmas parties

2006-12-07T16:35:00.000-08:00

Our Christmas party is tonight. Steve only wants to go so he can tell his coworkers about it. He's hoping for good stories, I know he is. Skip was sitting across the desk from me cleaning his fingernails with a paperclip. He looked up and without even the hint of a smile said, "Gotta clean the blood out before the party, it upsets some people when they're eating." It dawned on me that he sits there often, cleaning his nails. It also dawned on me that even though no one wants to go to this party, they all are getting pretty excited about it. I don't even know what i'm wearing yet, guess i should have given it some thought, especially since the owner's wife was a Nordstrom buyer before she came to the funeral home. Skip says we have to go cuz the owner takes it personally if anyone doesn't attend. He said you don't get your ham if you don't go. He was laughing, but he said it's true, they won't give you any gift at all if you don't go. Small companies, grr. The part i'm looking least forward to is the gift exchange. It's where you take some stupide gift and then everyone picks from under the tree or else they take someone's gift who already took from under the tree. I don't want to have to go up to the tree and I don't want to take anyone else's gift. I hate that part. I just don't want to go, period.

First calls

2006-12-05T15:38:00.000-08:00

I had a doctor's appt, an annual. I joined the mamogram-a-year club, boy when did I get this old? Steve thinks it's funny. I think he's past due for a prostate exam. My appointment wasn't far from a hospital where we had a first call. So we decided, Schewan and I, that I would go on the first call after my appointment. I was brave, it'd be okay. After my appointment, I called her to see if he was released yet and if I could pick him up. She checked. I hoped he wouldn't be ready. She called me back. He was. My heart was racing. She said she told them it was my first time and that I might be a little emotional. I was supposed to go to the floor he was on instead of to the morgue, they thought it'd be easier for me. I picked up the phone for admittance to the ward. I could barely say who I was and why I was there. I was okay again once they let me in. I waited for the Decedent Affairs Coordinator to arrive. She said she didn't want me to have to take him throught the hospital, so he was going to the morgue afterall and she would go with me and we'd pick him up there together. "Noelle," she said, "he was very sick and he's so much better off right now. He was born with all his organs on the outside." He was only a month old and I never actually saw him. We went to the morgue. I was shaky and hoping to not pass out. She was calm but chatty so that I would be more comfortable. I could smell the morgue as soon as we stepped out of the elevator. I never knew this scent before and probably regular people would never recognize it. Does that mean I'm not a regular person now? Two young men from the transportation department were there, but they forgot to bring the baby and I didn't understand for a moment why two of them came and the bassinet was empty. Couldn't together they figure out to bring the baby with them. Then she opend the cabinet underneath the bed and took him out. He was, of course, in a plastic bag, not just in a baby blanket burrito like I was somehow expecting. I opened my little blanket and she put him in. I wrapped him up. I didn't know which end was his head and which was his foot. It didn't matter, as i covered the plastic, wrapped him like a Christmas present, and called him by name as I pulled him to my chest. It wasn't until we were in the elevator that I realized I hadn't checked his toe tag. What if I had the wrong baby? I had to open the blanket. Luckily, he had a tag on the outside of his bag and it was him, the right dead baby. I buckled him into the front seat of my car. As much as you can buckle in a 2 pound baby in a plastic bag, wrapped up like a Christmas present on the way to the funeral home. I drove so carefully on my way back to work. I couldn't imagine getting into a wreck and having him go flying. I didn't sing to him or talk to him, well only once to say we were going now. I carried him into the building. I put him in the refrigerator. Wrote his name on the log and came back up front to my desk. Schewan asked how I was and I was okay.

I was waiting and waiting and waiting for Logan to get home from daycare that night. And when Danielle brought him in, I hugged him. And then the tears came.

Family deaths

2006-12-01T10:04:00.000-08:00

Brother, 63, heart attack. Sister, 59, cancer. Died within three days of each other. Mother is 87, poor dear. Double memorial service coming up this weekend, yuck.

I went into the prep room yesterday to get the dirty laundry for the cleaning service. Aargh. Mom is early 30s, son 11ish, and younger son 6ish. Skip embalmed them the day before, so they were just laying on tables waiting to be casketed. Car wreck took them all. Huge services for them in a couple days.

My daughter is mad at me. She sort of moved back out. I'm glad, I wanted her to move out, she's 22 with an almost 3 year old, she needs to move out. But not when she's mad and pouting and running away. She just doesn't get that this is a temporary gig. We don't know how long we have, and she's gonna piss it away cuz I don't like her boyfriend? She's so spoiled, thinking the world revolves only around her, my goodness, doesn't she get that today, right here, right now, that's all we're guaranteed? Most people don't get it. Half the time I don't get it. But the other half, man, there's an urgency which I never experienced before this job. An urgency not for things, but for relationships. I want my children to know how much I love them. How amazing each of them is. I don't want to die and leave any of them wondering if they were acceptable to me. I don't want them sad at my funeral because I left unsaid anything I should've said. I want them to know my heart and my happiness in them. I want them to live each day knowing they are my best contribution to this world, all five of them. My daughter is mad and I don't know how to fix it yet and it feels so empty not connecting with her right now.

If you're reading this and you know me, then you're reading it because I care about you. There's only a handful of you who I sent the link to, so I can picture each of you now. You are important to me. You have offered me your friendship and I'm so glad to share a part of your lives. Even if life has taken us on different paths, we're still sharing a part of ourselves, and I'm glad for it. My life is richer because of each of you. Thank you for listening to my ramblings, even when they take a somewhat odd turn as they have today.

I've never seen a momma and her boys on cold steel tables before. It's made me a little mushy.

My biggest compliment

2006-12-01T08:59:00.000-08:00

Skip: "I think you do good at what you do up there for someone who's never been around the work."

I don't know if he could have given me higher praise. I'm smiling inside.

Cremated Remains, aka ASH

2006-11-17T15:26:00.000-08:00

Ok, so now I know more than I ever wanted to know about cremation. I probably could have asked Steve, cuz when we went on a field trip to the crematory, he asked all these kinds of questions. It was still too new a job and too much reality for me to listen to the answers.

Here's what happens, it's not gross, I don't think, so no worries. The body goes into the retort (oven) on a plywood/ pressboard tray. The gas comes on, the flame is lit and the temperature reaches (at some point) around 1800 degrees F. It takes a few hours, depending on size and fat content. I do remember the crematory guy saying he can estimate a person's fat content on site, it did make me feel a little chunky. Once the process is finished and you open the door, there lies the skeletal bones, similar to how it is when a fire in your fireplace goes out and the shape of the log is still there. Like that burned out log, if you touch it with the fireplace poker, it kind of collapses, well the bones do the same. So first the bones are swept into a tray, then a magnetic wand is run over the tray to remove screws, hips, teeth, etc, then the bones are placed into a big pulverizer and processed. So, technically there's no "ash", just pulverized cremated bones.

Our manager tells me that maybe if I'm lucky I can get promoted to retort operator once our retorts are installed. I laughed, politely refused (HA!) and hung up the phone.

Now I really do have to make those dang folders.

Friday again

2006-11-17T14:39:00.000-08:00

Why do so many people die between midnight and one am? It makes no sense to me, but alot do. The guy who owns the transportation company was just here and he said it's really common. Do they try to hold on for "one more day" or do they die in their sleep? Why can't they die during the day when it's more convenient for everyone? And why can't more of them come here when they die? I'm starting to get bored again.

Yesterday I saw my first set of dead, fake breasts. She was in her early fifties and died of cancer, so had lost alot of weight, not that she was probably ever a big woman to start with. She was skinny and tiny except for those breasts standing straight up. Her doctor would have been so proud!

Someone this week bought a ceramic urn. It's another thing I don't get. Ceramic breaks. What are they thinking? It won't be like Meet the Parents, though, cuz the ashes go in a sealed plastic bag and then into the urn, so if it breaks they won't go flying to the ground for the cat to pee in. People have been bringing in weird things for urns. One family just brought me a metal Christmas tin. Another woman went to somewhere like Target and bought three bathroom accessories for urns. You know those matching sets or glass/toothbrush holder/ garbage can/ etc? Well, these are the little containers that you'd put cotton balls or something like that in. They have lids, but they don't screw on and I put silicon to seal them, but then I worry that it won't hold. What if they put them on the bathroom counter? Someone will try to get a qtip, think the lid is stuck, yank hard, and puff a face full of ash. Ah, but if you were reading closely above, you'd know that there'd be no puff, only a plastic bag filled with ash. One of the preneed counselors was trying to tell me that there is no such thing as ash, that it chemically cannot be called ash. What??? You burn something up, what's left? ASH! Right now I'm taking a survey of FDs to see if they think it's ash. What the heck else would it be. Yesterday I was trying to put some cremated remains into a necklace. I'd like to see the inventor of those things be turned in ash! Bone fragments kept clogging up the funnel. I needed to sift it first, but of course we don't have a sifter. Maybe I'll put that on the supply list. May I have an ash sifter please?

A couple days ago as I sat here bored the thought went through my head, "I work in a funeral home". It didn't last but a second, but it was the kind of thought like what in the world? Dead people go here. It was the response I get from other people when I tell them where I work, but it was my response. And I don't tell people right away what I do, if i meet someone new. I just don't. It changes conversations, so I'm much more quiet about it than I thought I would be.

I'm still in a weird place in my head. I'm rambling though so I'll go back to work now. I've got some memorial folders to make and I've been putting it off all day.

nothing of interest to report

2006-11-09T13:29:00.000-08:00

Funeral life is boring this week. Only three cremations. One I did entirely over the phone and thru fax, so won't even see the family till they come in to pick up the urn. A little out of the ordinary. He died almost three weeks ago but wasn't found for awhile. in the middle of a divorce, but the wife signed the cremation authorization and paid the bill anyway. It worked out well, when it could have been very ugly. The adult sons on both sides made sure it went smoothly, each protecting their own parent. It was nice to see that they could work together and take care of things.
One urn burial today at a national cemetery. He was 91 and he and his wife are the only ones left in this area. She had no one to talk to the day he died, but me. She told me several times about how he died, it was quick and she believes he had no pain. She heard the death rattle. I've heard other people describe it and then another lady this week used the term "death rattle". I guess it's rather unsettling. It's not a choking but an inability to catch one's breath. Sort of. Similar to wheezing only there's a really weird sound. The wife told me she won't ever forget the sound. She said he couldn't speak with words when she asked if he was alright, but he met her eyes and she knew he understood what was happening. He died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. She said she was the sick one, not him, so she really didn't expect it at all. 91 and death is unexpected. Maybe we never expect it, even when someone is sick and the loved ones know they are dying, usually the death is still a shock. I talk about this as if I know. I've not lost anyone since I was in my early 20s and I'm (well) past that now. :)
I feel quiet today and somewhat unhinged. Now there's a weird word. I told Steve recently that sometimes, lots of times, and anywhere, not just at work, I hear quiet voices in the background and I see movement out of the corner of my eye. He didn't know what to say and just nodded. What could he possibly say to a confession of that sort. It's probably all in my head, although Schewan says that it's energy which I'm more susceptible to now. I don't know how that fits into any kind of theology. I know some people are very specific in that they are not to be cremated for 24-72 hours after death (whatever their own magical time limit is) so that their spirits have time to leave the body and the area before the burning commences. It's not as if they'd be burned alive, so I don't get the need for a time frame. Mostly I guess I think the soul leaves the body immediately upon physical death, and I believe in an afterlife...yes, heaven or hell. I think you probably get to go right to heaven if that's your destiny, but i'm not entirely sure about the hell-bound souls. Do they wander? And why do I think their time frame may be different than heaven-bound souls? Wouldn't the final disposition happen equitably? I don't have any answers. Only questions. The biggest of which is where in the world is Schewan. My head is pounding (a cold last week has left me with a five day headache).

what friends should tell ya

2006-10-27T14:50:00.000-07:00

Just like a true friend tells you when you have spinach between your front teet, a true friend should also tell you when you have someone's husband's ashes all over the front of your black shirt before you go back to the office to give her his urn!

I can't believe I leaned into the counter when I was gluing the little keepsakes and I got ash all over me. It looked like I'd been playing in it and then wiped my hand on my shirt. I was mortified. I realized it just as I was handing her the urns and then I made the mistake of brushing my shirt which drew her eyes straight to it. Of course the brushing only drove the ash further into the material's weave rather than off and to the floor. It was terrible.

I went in back after they left and asked what was up with the FD not saying anything. He laughed pretty hard and said he didn't notice. hmpf.

The pissed off daughter finally came to pick up her mother's ashes today. Good thing we rushed it, so she could sit on a shelf and wait for two weeks. She was nicer today, but not by much.

Male, 23, sky diving

2006-10-26T12:53:00.000-07:00

Report: (gramatical errors don't belong to Noelle)
I was advised of a down parachutist unknown of injuries near ABC Rd. Dispatch said that rescue and ambulance was en route.
I followed the rescue vehicle up ABC St to the end and we went throught a gate that had been opened to a gravel road. We followed the fire chief to the first road to the left and went down to that road to the end.
We then walked about another 700 feet down a brush hill to where the parachutist had fell. Teh parachutist was laying on his back near some oak trees and his reserve parachute was open laying on the ground above him. The parachutist was dead and his helmet was off.
You could see where the parachutist fell through an oak tree, hit the groud, then went about 10 feet downhill. There was a person there who was identified as Mr. Y who said that he watched him from the air strip. Mr. Y said he saw his parachute open all the way and then he saw him start to spin around like he was playing. He said Mr. X, from the parachute school, was talking to him on his radio and told him to stop playing around then all the sudden when he got at about 200 feet he cut his main chute loose and his reserve did not have time to open and I went to where he went down to check on him but he was dead.
I went about 500 feet northwest of where the parachutist went down and got his main parachute down from a tree. The medical examiner arrived and the deceased was taken to a funeral home until proper notification could be made. Detective X notified the police dept to notify relatives about the accident.

Statement from Mr. X:
He was on the ground watching them jump and was talking to them with a portable radio as a safety measure. He said that they left the airplane ok and Male's chute opened all the way, then he started turning around to the right in a slow turn like he was playing around.
He said I told him on the radio to stop plaing around and pull his left toggle to stop the spin but he just kept spinning around. He said that at about 300 feet from the ground he cut loose his main chute to activate his reserve but it didn't have time to open all the way and that's when he went down by the trees.
Mr.X said that he did not understand why Male would have cut his main chute loose, because there was no malfunction with it and if he would have rode it down he would have been ok. He said when Male went through the jump classes he did real good and understood everything. Mr. X gave me a copy of an agreement that David had signed and showed the training he went through before he made his jump.

I contacted the jump master who was in the airplane when Male jumped. I asked him what happened and he said when we were getting ready I kept asking them if they knew what to do and everyone said yes, so when we got to 4500 feet, I opened the door and Male made a good exit. He said I saw his chute open all the way then we closed the door and started to climb again. He said I didn't see him go down so I don't know what happened. He said when we would ask Male what he was supposed to do, he always said yes and would give us the right answer.

I talked to the pilot who was flying the Cesna 180 airplane. I asked him if he saw what happened and he said, all I saw was when he left the airplane then his canopy opened and he was spinning around, but I did not see him fall.

I contacted Mr Z who was on the ground watching when Male jumped and asked him what he saw. He said I saw his chute open all the way and then started turning around to the right in a slow turn like he was playing around. He said I heard Mr. X tell him to stop and he just kept turning around. He said all the sudden when he got to about 500 feet he cut his main chute loose and his reserve did not have time to open.

There was also another jumber that was there but had left before I got to the airport.

Noelle: I'm sure there are pages missing from this (unprofessional) report, namely the action taken or decision reached. I have to wonder if this young man truly had an accident or if it were an elaborate suicide. He had a large insurance policy, which may not have paid out for suicide. I'm left with more questions than answers and I wonder if the investigators at the time felt the same or if they were positive it was a stupid mistake which resulted in tragedy.

preneed

2006-10-26T12:36:00.000-07:00

There's a preneed counselor here now, well actually there are two of them. A married couple, overweight, total sales people. They encompass everything I do not like about sales. To me, it's strictly about making their living, not about doing what's best for the family or about what makes the most financial sense. It's about pouring on the pressure for someone to buy more than they need or want simply so they can get a larger commission. They get some leads from me. I copy the statistical portion of an at-need file and then they call the next of kin and try to get them to preplan their own funerals. It's greasy. This couple especially. I don't feel comfortable to give them any more of our files, so I plan to ask the manager if I can give them to the other preneed counselor, who is a sweet lady. She genuinely cares about the families she serves, it's a very different perspective than just trying to earn a living. Part of the difference is that it's a secondary income for her, not the primary income like this other couple. They've made me so mad, so disgusted, they seem to be complete predators and it's wrong. Piss off the one who answers the phone and sets appointments, hmm, is that really a good idea?

Male, 61, early 1990s

2006-10-26T12:26:00.000-07:00

Coroner's Notice of Death Record
Alcoholic, heart disease, on many medications. Heavy cigarette smoker. Drinks a case of Black Velvet scotch a week. Found sitting in a chair in living room. Had messed his pants and bed, dark brown, coffee ground substance.

Apostolic funeral

2006-10-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

It's an interesting funeral. The family is very nice, very gentle. They don't have a pastor speaking, which is a little odd to me. The women are all wearing skirts, long hair in buns, no make-up. Of course, we're kind of an all-female funeral home. Schewan, myself, the owner's daughter who is a Funeral director intern, and the Hospitality Room Hostess. All in pants, all secure in ourselves and fairly out-going, not one meek woman here. Schewan has a ton of makeup, jewelry and several colors in her hair, Princess (owner's daughter, but i don't mean it negatively as she's a very hard worker, i may have named her in a previous post, but i can't remember) has bottle blonde, but tasteful hair. Hostess also has dyed hair and a smoker's voice to boot. I'm the only one with natural hair, but all of us have short hair, none past our shoulder's. It makes me wonder what the women think of us, if they think we're heathens simply because of our appearance. Just so long as they don't look closely and see that my suit is black and my trouser socks are navy. It was dark in my room this morning and it seems to happen just about everytime I wear these pants, that I grab the wrong color socks. I know it's because they're a little too short and you can see my socks if i sit. Hmm, maybe if my butt would quit getting bigger, the pants would quit getting shorter! Do apostolic women run? Are they allowed to wear shorts and a sports bra? How do they exercise in a skirt? Can they wear pajama pants or only nightgowns, I'm assuming they wear something to sleep in. Do they? They seem quiet and meek, but how can they all be? How do they squash their own personalities in order to fit the mold? Or do they? I have a hard enough time being a regular woman, balancing beliefs, family, work. I can't imagine how you also keep track of the rules a religion imposes on you. I guess my issue with it, is that I don't understand how any religion can take one section of the bible and develop man-made rules out of it. Certainly there is the need to follow what God says, but I don't see the need in adding more rules, which I can't believe God cares so much about. Do they shave their arm pits or legs? I know, that's a little random, but it just came to mind. It makes me wonder what "rules" have been imposed on me by my non-denominational church. Certainly nothing as obvious as not cutting my hair, but are there things which I've begun doing or others which I've quit doing simply because I now attend church? I don't even know how to explain that. I guess that while I admire the simplicity of the gesture of those in the chapel now, I wonder if their rules get in the way of their relationship with God, and if so, could they ever recognize it as happening? Musings of a bored office assistant...