Tired

Everyone is so tired, and the real funeral part of the funeral doesn't even start until later today. We've had trouble getting hold of some people, and that has caused a great deal of stress, and we don't have all the pallbearers yet, and that's tough. The visitation and prayers are today and that will solve the pallbearer problem, because anyone who could help out will be by today. The flowers are ordered, the cemetery has been dealt with, the food is arranged. We're having a reception next door at the family home, outside after the internment, and while I've been orchestrating that, I had to find a manager to get things started while we are at the cemetery. All done. I have learned to delegate and I can do it without hesitation.

I get to sleep at night, and I wake up at 4:00a.m. and imagine various scenarios. While this is disturbing when it happens because I am of course imagining the worst possible things, it's good once I'm awake because I've already imagined the worst, so nothing terrible can really happen that I'm not prepared for. Usually things go much, much better than I ever dream they will. This is good. Having an overactive imagination is bad at the time, good in the end...

I'm tired, and not thinking quite as clearly as I should. Little things are making me angry, and any incompetency from anyone will set me off. Beware my wrath. Hub just asked me if he should stop at Picard's on the way home from dropping Katie at the doggie spa, and I said yes, of course, go and get the stuff we didn't get the other day. (Their chip-peanuts? sound horrifying but oh ye of little faith! they are spectacular. Never underestimate the power of Mennonites to hijack your tastebuds.) They don't have a website, but if you're in St. Jacobs or Morriston, stop there. You will be spoiled for peanut butter forever. My apologies if you're allergic.

The gist of this story is that when we stopped there on the weekend, Hub asked me something about picking up some stuff for our trip, except that I thought he meant the day trip to Niagara, and I gave him a look that said okay, you can get some but not too much, they'll make a mess, don't overdo it, OH MY GOD you want to what???!! buy snack food!!???

Apparently, this is a look that can actually stop time.

So we didn't get very much stuff from Picard's on Sunday, because I arrested the clocks and prevented any further explanation. Now that I've had it explained to me that the snacks are for when we're sitting at my dad's condo next week, on the balcony overlooking the lake and sipping some fine wine from the Okanagan.....well, now I have allowed the world to continue turning on its regularly-scheduled axis and peanut products will be purchased, in spades, and some will accompany us as gifts.

Really, I should use my powers for good, not evil.

There are a lot of things to do today, and we will see a lot of people who will break down and that will be okay. One thing about funerals with Italians: nobody holds back back on the emotions, and honestly? this is a good thing. It makes things easy. Nobody is uncomfortable about crying, and everyone does it, except for me that is, and I and my emotional responses to shocking incidents are topics for another day.

I keep thinking that I also have to pack up four people for a nine-day trip out west. I'm hoping we don't arrive with a bag full of t-shirts and toiletries, and no pants or toothbrushes, or god forbid, to arrive with only the shoes I'm wearing on the plane. Surely the space-time continuum will collapse upon itself if I don't have more than one pair of shoes for nine days.