New friends

So, I am finally feeling a bit better today.  I am tired, mostly tired of coughing, but I finally don't have a headache the size of Alaska.

Wednesday, right? So that means funeral services.

I haven't worked any really fascinating services lately, but I have worked some services that have ended by starting a new friendship or two.

One, a service for a woman in her late 50s (I think), her daughter was the one to make arrangements, along with her grandma (the mother of the deceased), and everything went really well.  So well, in fact, that the daughter invited me (the service was on a Saturday), along with my J and Clem, to meet up with them (she and her hubby, her dad, grandma, some aunts , uncles and a few friends) for breakfast and bloody marys the next morning, so we went.  We had a blast.  They loved Clem, and weren't at all odded out by my having a girlfriend.  It was great.  So great, in fact, that they called a few weeks later when they were back in town (the daughter and her husband) to do it again.  It really was wonderful.  We went to the same Basque place, had an awesome breakfast (served with wine, ???), and they taught Clem how to say she's from the area code that we live in. Hilarious.

I'm not really sure why, but I wanted to share that one with you.  Maybe I needed a little pick-me-up this week.

Doll, if anyone asks, nothing happened last night

The title of this post was the first thing the boss said to me this morning when I saw him at work, and without knowing what it was I did last night, it sounds pretty juicy...

Yesterday, by the end of the day we had 9 new cases.  I already had two families scheduled to come in today, one at 10 and one at 1130.  Pretty close together, and I was feeling a bit of pressure knowing how hectic today would be, not counting whatever cases died overnight.  Anyway, the boss comes in yesterday around 430:

Boss: Doll! It's been a long day! Boys night out tonight. After work. (Lists the guys that are gonna be there)
Me: *laughs* I'm one of the boys??
Boss: Yes, Doll, one of the guys in particular made sure you were notified.
Me: Is your Sugar Lips gonna be there?
Boss: Definitely not. No girls allowed. And no telling the women, Doll. It's a secret boys night. We're going to that new beer spot in town.
Me: *confused* But I'm not a boy. I don't even look like a boy. *starting to panic* BOSS! DO I LOOK LIKE A BOY???
Boss: *chuckle* You don't look like a boy. *another chuckle* But the boys think you are one of us, you are more vulgar than we are, so you're an honorary boy. And you can hold your beer. We like that.
Me: *slightly embarrassed* That's sweet boss.  I have Clem tonight though.
Boss: You need a night out, kiddo. Bring her with you.
Me: What about J? It sounds like girlfriends are forbidden from this boys night out.
Boss: She's good to go. The old guys want to meet her anyway.
Me: So lemme get this straight, Boss. You are having a boys night out at a pub and you are inviting me, my daughter, and my girlfriend?
Boss:*laughing* You coming or not, Doll?
Me: We'll be there... Wait! are the Giants gonna be on???
Boss: You're too much, kiddo.

So, we went out and had a great time.  And apparently so did the boys.

And I'm super swamped. The family I met with at 10 lasted til 12, so Monica had to meet with the 1130 which sucks because she had just come in from a funeral Mass about 10 minutes prior, and as I was finishing up with the 10 o'clock we got a new case that was supposed to be here at 2 and still hasn't called or showed up.  Jane is pissed because I am busy with four hundred pounds of paperwork and families that don't show up, so I cant work in the prep room and she's got more bodies than she can handle in an 8 hour work day.

Fuck. At least I got to have a couple of beers last night.

Manic Monday

Busiest. Day. Ever!!!

So, I was on call this weekend, and didn't end up having to go in the office once, which was nice because I had a long, emotionally draining time with the hubby.  I got six new cases, most of which were on Sunday, and the families all acted like they wanted to come in on Monday to make arrangements, and two of the cases were coroner's cases that wouldn't be released until Monday anyway, so we couldn't embalm them until then.

Anyway, I feel like I have been making arrangements ALL DAY, which I have.  My first appointment was at eleven, making arrangements for a 12 day old infant that apparently died of SIDS, but the ruling most likely won't be for months.  SIDS cases are hard to determine right away, it seems to be one of those cause of deaths that is kinda a catchall.  So, the mom and dad weren't really good buddies, and both of their parents came in to help, as well as friends of the family and the pastor.  They prayed throughout the whole thing, which I'm totally for, but I felt very awkward the whole time.  They picked a nice little casket, and the service is going to be at a church, which I'm glad for, as I don't know that our chapel would be big enough.  I gave them all my cell number so that they could reach me if they had questions (I figure two eighteen year olds might have a few questions) and sent them on their way.

The second family I met with was nice, they had a pre-arrangement on their dad who died, and the arrangement went smoothly.  The arrangements were being made by three of the sons, whom, within five minutes of the arrangement had been charmed by my loveliness and humor.  They hadn't been one of the calls that came in over the weekend, and they just walked in without an appointment (NOT the day to do that, but whatever), but luckily I had the time to meet with them since my manager ended up taking my other appointment, who had been running late.

Then I had a three o'clock, and they were strange.  They wanted a cremation for their dad, and asked every question in the book about every little thing.  It was two sons and a daughter of the deceased, and one of the sons was doing that look-at-me-a-little-too-long thing that was a bit creepy, but at the same time made me feel like I was overreacting and he was just weird, but not creepy.  But let me reiterate: they asked EVERY QUESTION IN THE BOOK!!! I even said to them that my mort sci teachers would be very proud of me if they were there listening.  they laughed, and I'm sure they have no idea that no one asks all those questions.

Anyway, there was only one case for me to get ready today, and he looked great, but when all was said and done we had six that needed to be embalmed today, none of which I embalmed, and I am sure to get an earful from Jane tomorrow about that.

ANd now I'm sitting on my sister's bed, having a vodka cranberry (all about the health), checking her farmville (is it possible to be addicted and NOT have my own facebook?), and posting, but grateful because my daughter is sleeping in the next room and not across town, and starting to get a little tired.

Recap of the decap...

(that was too cute of a title not to use)

So, a while back a guy was in a car accident and was decapitated.  Now, in mortuary school you learn how to repair a decapitation in theory.  The problem with that is though, that while you learn how to embalm a head an body separately, position the head properly, stitch it back on to the body, and cosmetize over the whole mess, it's a bit different in practice.  See, what they don't teach you is how to not freak the fuck out when you are standing there looking at a head that has been severed from a body.  It is very odd, and a bit nauseating.  This guy's head was just off to the side of the embalming table, and it was like my mind was trying to make sense of it, even though I know that he had been decapitated.

He ended up looking great, which in a way sucks ("Look, guys, it doesn't look like he died a tragic, painful, unnecessary death because he drank WAY too much and decided to drive home"), but in a way is nice.  the stitching up took the most time (doesn't it always), followed closely by the cosmetizing afterward.

Another strange thing: I didn't take off the wristband that the bar had given him that night.  It had the name of the club on it, and made it through the accident without a scratch.

Drinks with my sister, or, In which I get hit on by the waitress

Last night my sister and daughter and I went out for some beers (not for my daughter, she had water). There’s a little town just a little ways away from the city I live in, and they have a pizza place with tons of beers on tap and even more bottled, and my sister and I like to go anytime I am husbandless. We’ve only recently started going to this place, but we love it and even though it’s a bit of a drive (but not too bad, the little town is practically part of the city I live in) I think we are quickly becoming regulars.

So, we sit down in a booth that Clem (my daughter) picked out, and this super-adorable, butch-y server gets us some menus and says, “Back for some more torture?” She had been our waitress once before, about a month ago, and apparently remembered us (two hot chicks and a cute kid, I’d remember us too). She got us some beers that she thought we’d like (she was right) and would stop by the table every so often to flirt and let me charm her socks off, especially once she found out that I’m a mortician. Close to the beginning of the evening she pointed out the way I was dressed (skirt and matching vest; white, high-collared, button-down shirt; pantyhose and four inch heels (hot, right?)), and asked what I do for a living (I said mortician just as she started to ask if I was a paralegal or some shit, LOL). Apparently her sister always tells people that she’s a mortician just for kicks, and through the conversation we had about her sister I learned that my super-cute waitress is 24 years old (and just barely that). We continued the flirty banter throughout the evening, and I finally asked her why she works in the little (more conservative) town when she could get a job working in my (much larger and accepting of the lesbians) town instead. Here’s our convo (or what I remember the conversation going like):

Waitress: I’d get in a lot more trouble working there than I do here.
Me: What kind of trouble?
W: Well, let me just say, I like them married.
Then she WINKED and walked away.

Or something like that

So, yeah, she’s totally warm for my form, right? Maybe I’m not as old looking as I thought I was, or maybe she likes the girls that are almost thirty…

Gypsy service

Gypsies are funny folks. In mortuary school we are taught about many different groups of people, and Gypsies were one of those groups. I didn’t really pay that much attention to the specifics of their services, mostly because I didn’t think I’d ever do a Gypsy service, and now I’m kicking myself. We have a Gypsy service this week, and I’ll tell you what: those are some different customs. There are tents in the parking lot, and everyone is drinking all the time. There is to be beer at the cemetery, and Lord knows how the casket bearers are going to haul the casket to the gravesite, full of everything you can imagine: money, jewelry, clothes, good liquor, you name it. They don’t want to touch the deceased either. I asked one girl about it, she said the spirit stays here and that they can’t make it mad, to will seek revenge or something on them if they aren’t good to the human remains. They won’t say the name of the deceased either. Anyway, I’ll update if anything happens…

I am so tired

The hubby had a gig last night. Two other djs came to town and they played from 9pm to 1am at a local bar. It was fun, I was in charge of taking the money at the door for the first hour or so, then some friends took over so I could shake it on the dance floor. This hot chick came up to me and danced a bit, and after a few minutes she started getting a bit handsy, I was wearing a killer blue dress (imagine Marylin's white dress in navy) and all of a sudden there are hands creeping their way up it. WTF, right? So I turned arround (the chick was dancing on my backside) and asked her what she was doing. Here's the convo:

Hot chick: Oh don't worry, I'm not a lesbian.
Me: What?
HC: I mean, you look hot, but I don't want to date you.
Me: Um, I wans't worried that you were a lesbian, I just dont want my ass hanging out all over the bar, so don't pull up my dress. And I'm married anyway.
HC: Oh, you are? Where is he? He just lets you go to clubs in sexy dresses?
Me (a bit stunned that this hot chick thinks my dress is sexy): Um, he's right over there watching you feel up his wife.
HC: Oh. *waves at my hubby* Will he let you give me your phone number.
Me: Why don't you go ask him?

What just happened there? I'm still confused. Was she hitting on me? I cannot figure it out.

Different topic:
Pete, an olf funeral director here called me up to his office this morning. He told me that his home page was changed and wanted to know why and if I could "fix it back to CNN." So I did that for him and also made a MapQuest bookmark at his request, and I swear to Buddha he thinks I am a computer guru. It's funny, the things that we can do that other generations can't.

In which I realize I'm too old for drinking games

The hubby, daughter and I went to visit his parents this weekend. We own a house downtown in the town we lived in before and our renters moved out so we needed to go through the house and figure out what repairs needed to be done, as well as find new renters. We had put a sign up the weekend before and had a few people scheduled to come by and look at the place. It’s an adorable house, a Craftsman bungalow built in 1917, and the neighborhood is awesome, so we haven’t had any problems renting it (now if we could only get someone to buy it), and by 2 in the afternoon on Saturday we had it rented to a nice couple with two teenage sons. We are going back this weekend to show them how the pool pump works and to meet a repair guy there to replace a ceiling fan and a few lights. It’s very strange being a landlord.

Anyway, we got to see some of our old neighbors which was nice. Its one of those neighborhoods where everyone knows everyone else, so we’ve been missed, as have they. The weather was perfect, probably about 98 or so on Saturday, so there were quite a few of the old neighbors out walking.

Hubby and I decided that we would go out Saturday night and let his parents hang with Clementine (our daughter). We called up the gal that we had hired as a receptionist at the funeral home that we used to work in and she said she was having a few friends over to play beer pong and hang out. She’s pretty young, about 21 or 22, and all her friends that were there were young also, and this is what I realized:

1. I am not young anymore
2. Beer pong is not my Olympic sport
3. Coors/Miller/Bud are not my friends and make me appreciate my Costco brand microbrew multipack.
4. Our friend throwing the party, she is totally hot, but I forgot how hard it was for her to think. Funny though.

Sunday was nice, Clem stayed with the in-laws and hubby and I went back to the rental to have the new tenants sign the lease forms. The man renting the house is a farmer, he and his brother have vineyards about an hour away, as well as some large vineyards un in Napa, and he brought us a huge flat of the best grapes I’ve ever eaten.

Driving home from the in-laws we stopped in a town about an hour from our home so that I could go see the Harry Potter movie with one of my besties while Clem and daddy chilled at her house. One of her girlfriends came with us and we watched the movie (which was good) and then went out for a cocktail at the restaurant across the street. It was funny, we were sitting at the bar, looking quite a bit like Charlie’s Angels (blonde, brunette, and a red head) and I asked my gals to wink at the older guy across the bar so that our martinis would get paid for. We all laughed, knowing that we’d never do it, and not two minutes later was one of the guys right next to us introducing himself and ordering a martini. He was telling us that it was one of his son’s 21st birthday today and that he had been hanging out at the bar earlier and that we just missed him, then he bought our drinks, flirted relentlessly with us, and invited us over to his house for an ‘after party.’ We declined and thanked him for his generosity (they were top shelf) and told him that we hoped to run into him again. Anyway, that’s about it for my weekend, and I should have a funeral-related post in a bit.

Lazy Friday

My boss told me yesterday at 4 that I could take the day off today unless we got really busy overnight, which apparently we didn't. So today my daughter and I, along with the family I nannied for back years ago, went to a water park. It was hot as hell today and the place was busy, but we had a great time playing around in the water and eating hot dogs.

This week at work was a week full of ship-outs. A ship-out is when we arrange for human remains to fly out of state or out of the country. I had two that were international shipments, and the funeral home had three that were out-of-state transfers. The out-of-country ones are a bit more work, as we have to get the consulate of the receiving country involved and they approve of the shipment before the human remains can board a plane. I also do consulate work for a couple of other funeral homes when they have remains to ship to Mexico, which is quite often, and I do all the translations for the Mexican Consulate and then they file the papers. The death certificate and transit permit, as well as the certified embalmer's letter all have to be translated, and it's always fun to learn how to say different causes of death in Spanish. I'm actually getting quite good at it.

So, I hope you all have a good fourth, I plan on sitting by a pool and drinking beer all day, and hope yours is as relaxing as I intend for mine to be.

Weekend Recap

We went to my in-laws' house this weekend. One of my husband's cousins had a graduation party Friday night to celebrate her finishing college and moving back here (she went to school in Kansas, don't ask where, I'm not even sure I know which state Kansas is). We left shortly after we got home from work and were at the party around 8 Friday night. We had fun, and stayed until about 10 (the party was at my grandparent-in-laws'), and then headed over to the hubby's folks' so that we could watch season 3 of Dexter on Showtime on Demand. For some reason though, there were only the first 6 episodes of season 3. Does that mean that there were only 6 made? Please, someone, tell me that isn't the case...

Anyway, yesterday the in-laws were busy with work in the morning so the hubby, child and I went to get a new battery in the car (yay for warranties) and have lunch in our used-to-be home town. It was a nice afternoon and we sorta just relaxed the whole day. We left our daughter there for Saturday night, the in-laws are on their way here now with her, and husband and I went out last night with friends. We went to one of our favorite bars and sat out on the patio, I had ketel one (spelling?) martinis (and no offense to my good friends, the couple we hang with a lot, but these martinis were the best I'd ever had, the olives at the end bringing back fond memories of my grandpa giving me the vodka-infused ones from his martinis when I was younger) while the hubby had Vikodin, and we played dice with our friends til about 130 in the morning. It was effing great.

I rolled out of bed at about 9, made iced tea, and headed to the pool with my book, and laid out for an hour and a half, soaking up some much-needed vitamin D, and was only joined at the pool at the very end of my tanning session. It is up to at least 105 right now, and I knew that my only alone time would be this morning, and was lucky to get in a good hour of my book.

At 1130 the hubby and I went to one of our dice-playing bar buddies' house to watch the US score twice in the first half of the Brazil match, only to watch them loose in the second, and then I came home to swim a bit more. Swear, I love this place. It seems like summer has taken a while to get here, but she totally made up for it this weekend.

Chicken-fried steak and a vocab lesson

Since my daughter is out of town and our Friday-night hang out friends' kids are out of town with my daughter, the hubby and I went to our friends' house for dinner last night. The wife half of the couple and I were thinking that we’d make dinner for our boys while they sit out by the pool and talk about boobs, and decided that we were going to make chicken-fried steak. Now, I grew up never having had it, but the hubby’s mom made it all the time when he was younger, so she taught me how to do it, and even though I hardly ever make it (I think it’s gross), it’s an easy recipe, and gravy is even easier, and both my husband and hers absolutely love it, so that’s what we made. She baked potatoes and made us gals a bomb salad, and her husband made me a killer vodka martini, and I’ll tell you what: it was a great evening. After dinner she and I chatted on the couch about everything, I even told her I had been blogging (not even my husband knows about that, he tends to be VERY protective of the funeral related info I have shared, and would be hard to convince that I NEED an outlet to talk about my job), and we had an awesome time.

Conversation I just heard coming from the two desks behind me:
Buffy: I’m so tired of your anti-Semitism, Buck. I mean, this is just not allowed.
Buck: Buf, I swear, if you don’t let me work…I don’t even know what you're talking about, anti-Semitism. Aren’t you supposed to go to lunch?
Buffy: Hey, Doll, what do you call that spot between the balls and ass?...Buck, that’s what you call it.
Me: (answering at the same time Buffy did) It’s a perineum, Buf, or were you looking for taint?
Buck: What?? What did you say, Doll? That’s disgusting. How do you know that?
Me: It’s not disgusting, it’s a word. You need to lighten up.
Buffy: What about a Cloaca, Doll? Do you know what that is?
Me: Nope.
Buffy: Buck, you're a cloaca.

Weekend update

So, I have had a very relaxing weekend (mostly). The hubby was on call for his job and had to go into work Saturday morning, and didn't get home until the afternoon, and I was watching my sister's one year old daughter, as well as having my two and a half year old. Now, I am not what (any)one would call a 'kid person,' but I do okay with a few at a time (okay, one at a time, two max), and my sister watches my daughter four of the five days out of the work-week, and I'm way more awesome than she is (although I don't look as much like Barbie as she), so I figured I could handle it (which I totally did, I mean, I was a nanny all through college). Now, I like to go on bike rides and have one of those kiddie-tow-trailer deals for the back of my lavender beach cruiser, and was thinking about taking the kiddos when I realized that I don't have a helmet for my sister's daughter (and living in the land of 'tons-of-laws' I know it is indeed possible to get pulled over while biking), so I settle on taking them for a walk in the bike-tow thing, which luckily converts into a two-kid-capacity stroller. Not five minutes into the stroll however, do I realize that 85 degree weather should, under no circumstances, be wasted on a walk, but it should be enjoyed sitting on a patio drinking a hefeweizen while just barely beginning to sweat (man, I love summer). So, quickly I call my bestest drinking gals to meet me at the closest TGI Frapplebee's and all of a sudden it's 90210 (okay, not even close) on a patio of a family restaurant with two young kids and my friend's fourteen year old daughter (the one that gives me most of the reading recommendations that I follow) who, luckily, are all glad to be there having milkshakes instead of some healthy applesauce and pb&j at home. Anyway, I not only had my wonderful beers, but it really was a nice walk to and from the restaurant.

That evening I get a call from my sister-in-law who lives in LA and she and her hubby are in town for a few days. Since they live quite far from us I was surprised that they hadn't called to let us know they were coming, but they were staying with his brother who lives here, so it's not like they were needing a place to stay, and they knew we'd be around since it was my hubby's weekend on call, and they're kinda last minute people, so really, it's just kinda them to call out of the blue. So, she says her husband has a day of golfing planned for today and wanted to come by for lunch and stay the afternoon with us, playing with her favorite niece. She got here today at about noon and we had a great lunch and then while my hubby (her brother) and daughter napped she and I talked about good shows that we'd seen and hulu-ed them. Her husband works in the business (the entertainment business, that is) and has been working on a show called 'Army Wives' for a few seasons now (I guess they just signed for their fourth...I think) and he brought the first 6 episodes of the current season with him, which I guess haven't aired yet. He's off for a while (it's always nice when the season starts airing because the crew all gets a break until they start filming the next season, which with this show I think is done in one of the Carolinas), which is how they got a weekend and two extra days to come visit, and says maybe we'll watch those episodes while they're here (although every time i watch a show he's working on it totally bombs, so I doubt I will). Okay, so while she and I are watching the snl skits she missed but shouldn't have, she asks me if I watched the episode of 'glee' that aired. I told her that i tivoed it but that I wasn't allowed to watch it if my husband was home because he thought it looked awful, and she said perfect let's watch it now, and that it was awesome I was going to love it, which I did. It really was amazing. Like, I cannot wait to see the next episode (why doesn't my brother-in-law work for that show...).

So, there's my weekend. No work, all play.

In which I was VERY drunk

K, I’m a bit hung over, so read this post slowly to get the full effect.

Also, just fyi: I type all of my posts in Microsoft Word in a file titled “Work Notes” because we aren’t to use company computers for personal internets, and luckily my manager is old-ish enough that he has to be at a certain angle to my computer to get a look at what I’m doing, so it looks like I’m doing something work-related.

Last night the hubby, kid and I went to a friend’s house for dinner. We ordered pizza and all ate outside by the pool, my daughter and our friends' kids ate on the grass and we were having a blast. Now, these friends are awesome drinkers, and are never at a shortage of things to drink. They keep the fridge stocked with beer (for me, and not just crap beer but good stuff), pepsi (for my hubby) and milk (for my daughter and theirs); the liquor cabinet is full of good vodka (for my sister who just about lives there and for the dad of the family that lives there (who, btw, makes a super kick-ass vodka martini, extra wet and extra dirty, please)); and the wine fridge is always stocked with cabernets (for all of us) and pinot grigio (for me, again), and let me just say, we got into all of it last night. A friend of the family was there in town from New York (I think I know which one that is…) whom I had never met but heard a lot about over the years. She is 25 and super adorable, and for the first time in my life, I met someone that gave me a run for my money in the crass/inappropriate/hilarious/life-of-the-party department. WE WERE UNSTOPPABLE!!!!!

After dinner (and after the ladies there (me, the mom of the house, gal from NY, my baby sister, and neighbor gal) were all hammered) we decided to play a game. Now, if you’ve ever played the game, “Apples to Apples” (which really isn’t that fun) you will understand this game, as it’s just a dirty version of that game that the dad of the house we were at made. In this game we are all given three playing cards with words, nouns to be exact, written on them. There is another deck of cards that have an adjective on each card. The person whose turn it is takes a card from the top of the adjective deck and places it face up on the table. Then the rest of us look through the three we have in our hands and pick the one that we think goes with the adjective card the best and place it face down on the table. The person taking their turn then reads them all out loud and picks their favorite, and the person whose card that was wins the round. Okay, so as I type that it doesn’t sound that funny but this deck of cards is dirty. Like, don’t-let-the-kids-come-out-to-the-backyard-while-we-play-this-game dirty (although how they would know that ‘tea bag’ isn’t just a tea bag I cannot fathom). Anyhoo, we’ve played this game before, but never with me and NY girl, and swear it was insane. And somehow I got a text this morning from her saying how much fun she had and what am I doing tonight, lol, and it was signed “Bouf Kurtina” which was the name we made up for her at some drunken point in the evening.

Side Note: the out of town funeral home I am helping just had the deceased brought here yesterday instead of me having to go there, since the coroner is in my city and it would be easier on me. So, I'm off to the back for a while!!