I am collapsed on my couch, still wearing my cheap black funeral dress, only it's spattered with powdered sugar and smeared with pastry cream. I am BEAT. I funeraled all morning and bakeried all afternoon. It was actually a pretty great day, considering, but spend your morning in heels wrangling a two-year-old at a funeral and your afternoon carefully packing ten dozen cookies for shipment and here you are collapsed on your couch, wishing for one of those Chinese foot rub places to come to YOU.
I know I told Twitter, but I probably didn't tell you - my old neighbor passed away last week. She's the 90-something lady who lived across the street from our townhouse and when we met her and found out she'd been going to our church for the last gazillion years, we started driving her. (Would you want your 90-something grandma taking two buses to church every Sunday?) She was what some people call a Tough Old Bird and I always felt like she took a long time to warm up to us, but today I'm remembering that seeing our babies in their car seats on Sunday morning seemed to be a highlight of her week. We never did as much as we should have - I always meant to take her grocery shopping or visit more than once in a blue moon. She never seemed all that interested in us, nothing more than The Nice Young Couple Across The Street With Those Cute Babies. And when I did visit she talked of nothing but her brilliant granddaughters - that's actually who they've been in my mind the last seven years: the Effing Brilliant Granddaughters. All three are PhDs on intense topics who've lived all over the world and I honestly sort of despised them in my mind. OH YEAH I'd think while my neighbor was bragging about the one at Harvard WELL I SWEPT THE KITCHEN TODAY *AND* CLEANED A TOILET.
Then today each of those brilliant granddaughters fell all over themselves to thank me for taking care of their beloved grandma, how that grandma apparently talked about US all the time, how they felt we were practically part of their family. Seriously. I had absolutely no intention of going to the reception and NO INTENTION AT ALL of going to cemetery for the burial, but, ah, I did both. I felt so welcomed, you see, and honored and actually like part of their family. So I went to the burial, which was beautiful actually, and I went to the reception, where I got to see a gorgeous wedding portrait and Emma ate cake and the brilliant granddaughters told me funny stories.
EJ got a crappy nap and I didn't get to exercise, but it was worth it. I think my favorite part was the drive to the cemetery. My old lady got a POLICE ESCORT through the local streets of North Seattle and it was gloriously sunny and I had the Christian radio station on so my ears were full of "he has conquered death" and OH. It was really wonderful. I think she would have QUITE enjoyed knowing she got a police escort.
Phillip just left to hang out with an old grad school friend. The kids are in bed and I have to sort through all the bakery pictures we took this afternoon and update our BUSINESS WEBSITE for mother's day. I possibly have a long night ahead of me. Especially if last night is anything to go by - Molly, at 4:30am: "I have a hair in my throat and it hurts." You THINK you're going to sleep again when they aren't babies anymore BUT THAT'S A LIE.