Cosima has a lovely post about fascinating museum exhibit and I encourage everyone to go check it out. However, I read it first at just before midnight and her introduction caused some firing of synapses perhaps best left blocked. But I can't just let it go, no...I have to use it as fodder for a post. Aren't you so lucky?
What is it she said? Well, she started by stating she wants to be cremated and scattered to the wind so no museum gawkers can hover over her remains. I on the other hand would be ok with being dug up and being put on display and I think I shall be revising my own burial requests just so I can throw off the anthropologists and archaeologists. I will seed my casket with all sorts of incongruous items that bear no actual meaning to North American life at the turn of the millennium. (oh, and feel free to leave suggestions for this in the comments) Causing trouble even centuries after my death, how fitting, bwahahaha!
Ok, so anyone out there creeped out by this discussion? Keep reading it gets better. This is Weird Wednesday after all. Why do I have outlined plans of how I want the disposal of my remains handled at the tender age of 38 when I am seemingly healthy? Well, there has been a written outline of plans since I was 8.
Yes, folks that's right I didn't even know how to multiply and divide or write in cursive yet and my mother had planned my funeral. Being the forward thinking and detail specific mom she is she wanted to include my input into these plans as she recorded them. So one day as I was happily watching Brady Bunch reruns and playing with my Barbie dolls she called me to her desk and inquired nonchalantly, 'I'm working on our funeral plans. When you die do you want to be buried or cremated?'
There was a long silence as I pondered my mortality. Had she found the contraband gigantic wad of prechewed half sticks of sugar free, dentist recommended Trident I amassed so as to have a decent glob to attempt blowing bubbles with? Did my stinky brother rat me out about swiping mom's blonde wig and her padded bras to dress him up as my sister? What the heck was in that Kool Aid I had after school? I heard bad things about Kool Aid....Wait? Is MOM dying? Dad just left us now where is Mom going? Did one of those blood clots in her legs break free like she said they could? I looked left and right and over my shoulder and kind of chewed my lip before I asked if we were dying any time soon.
Mom laughed and said no but eventually we all would die and it was best to be prepared. Then she repeated her question. Only somewhat comforted, I asked rather tentatively, 'What's cremated?' She responded coolly, 'They burn you up and then grind up what's left of your bones.' WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! I don't wanna get burned up! I don't wanna get burned up!!!! She pulled me close in a loving hug and patted me as my crying slowed to a soggy snuffle. Finally she offered sweetly, 'It's ok. You don't feel them burning you because you're DEAD.' WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Ok, so we will put you down for burial then. Yes, I feel sooooo much better now. Just try going to sleep after that little mind bender at the age of 8 when you're the type of kid who already needs a nightlight and 14 stuffed animals in bed with her and pulls the covers over her head so the monsters can't see her and never lets and body parts dangle over the edge of the bed so the tentacles can't reach up and suck her under. Just TRY!!!! Obviously Mom let her hand fall over the edge of the bed in her sleep or something and the pod people got her and sent this lady back in her place!!