On Saturday I attended my first funeral service for someone that died from breast cancer. I've attended countless funerals, but never for someone that died from breast cancer. She was part of my Encore group at the YWCA. When I walked into the foyer of the church, I got a little choked up when I saw about 10 other women from Encore....we had lost "one of us."
The service was very nice, but it is always a little peculiar to attend a ceremony at another denomination. I spend so much time looking around, I look like a tourist. So as I was sitting in this unfamiliar setting, my mind began to wander about my own funeral...I know, it sounds a little macabre. I decided that I want balloons at my funeral! Don't get me wrong, I love flowers and want them too, but balloons would be fun. Balloons are happy and make everyone smile. If I die from breast cancer, I want all pink balloons. If I go as an old crazy lady in her 90's- my preference, any color would do, but not black; they must be happy colors. Wouldn't it be funny is one popped during the service? If that happens, you can know that it was me waking everyone up.
I hope there is a lot of laughter at my funeral too. I would rather people cry from gut-splitting laughter than from grief. Although, I love the way Josh Groban sings, "To Where You Are, " which guarantees not a dry eye in the place. Kleenex please.
Whacky thought for the day...
Why are flat screen tv's replacing artwork?
I recently went to dinner with a friend at fancy, smancy Ruth's Chris steak house in Boston. In our little dining room (one of several) a flat screen tv hung between two pieces of art! I thought..."are you kidding?" If I am paying premium prices for steak and creamy potatoes, do I need to look at a tv on the wall? I could go to a pub for a greasy burger and fries if I want that experience. (Fortunately, I didn't pay for dinner, so, I shouldn't complain.)