All eyes were on my sexy legs at the funeral. Now that I've got your attention let me expound on the trip or as I like to call it - "A Funeral Story". It's like "A Christmas Story" only it has more tragedy. The one thing I can say about Bass's and even my mother is that we all know how to be inappropriate. It is a gift I suppose. A skill that is handed down genetically from father to son and mother to son. From what I know it goes back to Grandpa. In talking with mom she said this one time when her, my dad, and my grandpa were at the country club that grandpa made sure to tell everyone that dad needs to spray deodorant on all his regions. The key to this gift is to make sure that someone else feels uncomfortable and the gift is in not knowing it. Let me take you back to the start.

My maid, Belinda, is a great maid. She warshes and hangs up my clothes, something she is not supposed to do (I slip her a little something extra). Apparently she hung up my black shorts next to my black pants. I seem to remember noticing but still taking them anyways. Suffice it to say I never took any dress pants with me. So when I got to the hotel I had nothing to wear. I went with the "English Schoolboy" or "AC/DC" look: black dress shoes, black socks, black shorts, a white long sleeve shirt with a tie and a suit coat. All I needed was a black cap to top it off. I felt bad about it, but then realized I couldn't do anything about it. The family was ok with it but I got some looks from the preacher and others. Every time I would shake someones hand their eyes would go straight down to my shorts. So I trudge on knowing that at least I wasn't naked. There we sit. Grandpa was in WWII so they had an honor guard there and it was pretty cool. Before the funeral started I got the feeling that everyone was supposed to be quiet. Apparently dad never got that feeling. First he asked mom,"What kind of alcohol do you drink? I'm going to get some after the funeral." "Brian, what kind do you drink." "7 and 7", I say as mom is poking me in the side and trying to stop from laughing. Then the funeral "officially" begins. It is a good funeral. I read a passage from the bible. Ron got up and gave a good speech. I did as well, although I fumbled for some words. Mom did, she also told everyone how she gave me crosses to give to homeless. I think somehow she was able to tie it in with Grandpa and make us feel uncomfortable at the same time. She ended with a very good poem about veterans that she had wrote. Dad said a quick couple of sentences and then the honor guard folded up the flag and gave it to dad. At the end of the funeral I think dad mentioned that we were all going to cocktail hour later and the preacher was like,"I'm not going" in a joking manner.

All was well and it was good to talk with everyone. Grandpa and Grandma's drink was scotch and soda. I guess it is a tradition to drink whatever that person's drink was so we all tried it. I had a sip and politely gave it back. It seems that side of the family only sees and talks to one another at funerals and on Christmas. Christmas is a lot more cheerful. Then dinner happened. After dad said lets all go to "A boo ellos" or Abuelo's we decided to go there. Then mom got sick. I don't mean sneezing either. She was shaking and kept on saying let's wait for the meal. I think they gave her some orange juice to tide her over. She then proceeds to shisk at the table. I am so lucky I am sitting at the opposite end of the table or there would have been a repeat performance. I'd like to thank Mom, Dad, and Robbie for my clinical emetophobia. I am afraid of it in all forms and without ya'll throwing up at least once a month ever since I was a child I don't know what I'd do (except relax more). They say exposure cures it. Yeah right. Anyways, I take mom back to the hotel in a really nice Lexus RX. Those cars are super-comfortable. I think that may be my next vehicle(maybe next year). I drop her off and then go back to the restaurant. Apparently cold fajitas aren't that good. I love it how if you want more cheese they never bring it(it's happened before). Anyways nothing inappropriate happened after that. Which is what is the most relaxing. I think it is because I get uncomfortable whenever something out of the ordinary happens. I should be used to it by now. Heck, I even get embarrassed while watching sit-coms when a person lies and tries to talk themselves out of it.

Anyway. I get in the hot-tub and relax that night. Then I get a call from a shivering mom at 3:30 in the morning. I ask her if she needs to go to hospital and she refuses. She wanted me to bring her some aspirin. Luckily I had some aleve with me. The front desk said they didn't sell any aspirin because of liability. Whoever heard of suing the front desk for faulty aspirin? I then go back to bed, worry about mom, and sleep till 11. Apparently checkout was 11. Luckily when I go downstairs to leave mom is in the lobby dressed and ready to go. It was like night and day. She was weak but was not in the same state. Anyways, as we drive back to Wichita Falls I start sneezing. Apparently all this stress gave me a cold. So I stay in Wichita for about 3 hours and then drive back home. The second I get back home my sneezing stops and all is well. I think I know what it is. I am allergic to funerals.

Thought of the Day
"I can say two things about Dad. He was always pleasant to be around, even up to the very end and he always provided for me and my sister."
Dad's Short Soliloquy - I've got it memorized