Scentimental Thoughts

I wish
I had
A smelling dog
That could smell
Bed bugs

I wish
I were
A cent
ipede
So I could run
out and buy
All the shoes
I crave
Even 100 pairs
Would only
Last me
2 days

Mmm
You smell
Good
What is that?
Nollie.
I run out
To the nearest
PacSun
He’s stunned
When I say
I wish I too
could smell
Like a stripper
and make people
Happy

To this day
Watermelon
Smells of a
wooden mouth
Une geule de bois
Is a hangover.
My dad
Loved watermelon
In the mornings
after
I wish
watermelon
smelled forever
good
to me

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Good-bye.

As we were walking into the funeral parlor today it suddenly dawned on me that I’ve never been to a funeral that was not:

  1. In French; or
  2. In a Catholic church (a French catholic church, that is…)

I had no idea what to expect. Whatsoever. The first thing I noticed was Dave. He was up there in his open coffin with a cowboy hat on his chest. From the fact that there was no kneeling bench in front of him I could deduce that we weren’t invited to walk up to him and do the kneeling down praying and crying thing we normally do in French. So we just grabbed a seat far enough back to let people know where we felt we stood in the hierarchy of Dave’s friends and contacts.

Booby is looking at the “program” and chuckles over the fact that Dave had chosen country music to be played. I gawked at the fact the ceremony was lead by a female pastor. French Catholics could never ever in a million years have a woman stand up there and talk. “Shit we’d all sit there with boners, in church… Sacrilège” was the explanation I’d once received from an ex-brother-in-law.

I’m sitting there, looking at these people I do not know. Wondering if they’re looking at me wondering who the hell I am… Yes, I keep thinking “what the hell?” about a shitload of stuff. (Like when I noticed Booby’s wrists. He has old man wrists… and I thought “when the hell did that happen?”)

Thank god it wasn’t a church, but some churchy looking room in a funeral parlor. Before it even starts I’m wondering if we’re gonna do lot’s of standing and sitting and kneeling… Thankfully when I look down I realize there’s no knee thing waiting to be flipped over behind the seat in front of me. I hate the kneeling part of going to church…

And I wonder what religion this is anyways? To have a female pastor, certainly one of the more progressive wings of Catholicism. Shit, any branch of Catholicism is a more progressive wing… But Dave? In a progressive branch? Good ol’ fashion Dave who never cussed but would say “Good grief!” in lieu of cussing? Progressive?

There was a lot of bible scriptures, no eulogy, a few songs and that’s it! Then some guy stood by the end of each aisles directing us to walk out, and follow the crowd to the front of the churchy looking room towards Dave, white Dave, still-motionless Dave, and then outside. No explanation, just their way of telling us to figure it out. It’s over, go home. Good-bye.

p.s. and no, they did not serve us cowboy crackers

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Dear Dave

Dear Dave,

Remember when I took this picture? You took me horseback riding and we spent hours clearing up those nasty thistles. And I kept teasing you about your badass cowboy look and attitude… Hey, I’d never actually seen a real live person with a gun on his belt with the hat & boots and all. Now I can say I knew a true cowboy…

Leo always joked about making sure we ate plenty before getting to your house, he always said all you had was Pepsi and cowboy crackers, is there such a thing as a cowboy cracker anyways? I never did find out.

I’m sorry I took so long to send you this letter. You know how life is… We’d rather busy ourselves with mundane insignificant activities than spend real time with the people who mean something to us. And afterwards we’re all shocked by how we never did get to say goodbye.

Goodbye Dave. I will miss you. I will miss how you took Leo under your arms and treated him as a son. And I will miss having you step in as my father-in-law. I will miss your strong bear hugs. I will miss your best ever biscuits & gravy and having you laugh at me because I’d never heard of such a thing. Biscuits and gravy…

I love you dearly. Rest in peace dude.

 

What’s Worse Than Losing Your Job?

Answer: when you and your hubby both lose it at the same time.

Wow. I mean wow. Today we found out our primary sponsor is no longer going to be our sponsor. At close to half a mil per year, this is a big fucking deal. So, our team will no longer be a team at the end of our season.

Wow. Talk about mixed feelings.

By mid November I will be unemployed. So will the Booby. Talk about the multiple eggs in just one basket case! What am I going to do? It’s a rhetorical question, I’m not really looking for answers, just a job.

And the “you should pick me” approach in a job application cover letter has not sprung any positive results, so back to the ol’ drawin’ board!

…to be continued!

p.s. after writing this and having it sit un-published, I found out Booby’s best friend passed away after a long battle against cancer. I haven’t told him yet. I don’t know how I’m going to do that.

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