September 19, 2008

PAY AT THE PUMP

My aunts house is about to fill with guests, far cast cousins and babies and kids in from college, so I shacked at the spare spot in the towns only b n b, with my other aunt. The whole place looks like doll house, except for the top floor--a rural Indiana approximation of India with a grip of potted palms and dozens of dark red brocade throw pillows. I feel like I'm in a harem.

Back at my aunt's house, there are four different kind of cakes on offer, including "dump cake" which crushed pineapple, cherry pie filling, applesauce (i think) with pecan crumb cake placed on top. I don't know how to make that, or how you would.

Today is the Catholic stuff, rosary, visitation, some open casket shit I did not know would be going down. I'm not sure why anyone would want to see someone they love laid out dead. I don't need proof. I am perhaps the only person here who thinks archaic religious rituals are the pentultimate freakshow. Burial at sea, having animals eat your corpse, a good old-fashioned pyre, having your ashes shot out of a canon or something--those are classy options. Spare me the cold cut buffet--my grandma has gone to see her #1 boyfriend in the sky, peaced out to the indignities of the nursing home, this mortal coil and dump cake.

Posted by Jessica at September 19, 2008 10:22 AM | TrackBack