Before it’s even over

Last night, as I was tucking the kids into bed, one was sobbing. Since he’s usually the most sensitive anyway, I assumed that he was thinking about death – a subject he broaches every once and a while. (And besides, we had just returned from the Shiva house.) But no. He was crying because summer is almost over.

Not that I don’t understand why that is sad. I, too, love the freedom and relaxed schedule of summer. And, aside from the past couple of days, we’ve had an amazing time. We’ve traveled, played and generally had a lot of fun and new experiences. It is hard to see it end. But it isn’t over. School in this part of the woods doesn’t start for 2 more weeks. (In Omaha, it starts today! Sorry kids.)

I know of a lot of people who stop enjoying something in preparation for its end. Sounds like a rotten deal to me. I want to get the most out of every single second left.

To me, summer’s not over until the school bus comes on August 29th.

Windsor

My grandmother’s funeral was yesterday. She had a good, long life. Still, somehow, it’s hard to say goodbye. The end of an era. My generation now moves to up – like Brownies being flown up to Girl Scouts. I suppose it’s even harder for my mother’s generation. They’re now the elders.

A Jewish tradition after a funeral is Shiva – days of sitting around and eating (and praying a couple scheduled times a day) and people drop in and out to visit. It is meant to be a time to talk about the one who passed and remember the good things while surrounded by people with whom you have connections. Mostly, I think, it’s about food. And catching up with all those people who are related to you that you rarely see.

My mother’s first cousin, Carol, told a story last night that had me in stitches. I feel the need to share it, and hope it doesn’t lose it’s humor in writing. And I hope that it wasn’t so funny to me because I’d had such a long day!

Carol’s grown, married son, Jason has a cat named Windsor. Evidently, he’s a bit odd. Jason and his wife race to be the first in bed each night, since Windsor attacks the last one up. Yikes. But since they choose to live that way, okay fine! But when they travel, Carol is tasked with taking care of the little monster. Last time, the cat sneaked up to her and attacked her leg and bit hard because she was later than Jason had told her to be. Clearly, Windsor keeps a tight schedule. So Carol rolled up her pants leg on the way out to see the injuries and showed her husband. His response? You wouldn’t have been hurt so badly if you hadn’t rolled up your pants leg! The delivery was priceless. Here’s the worst, though. Somehow, the cat got locked in the bathroom. Imagine how pissed off Windsor was when Carol came back the next day (not to mention the pleasant odor). She opened the door (what else could she do?) and the cat, in a rampage, latched onto her leg and had to beaten off with the toilet brush.

Yes, that was a lighter moment at Shiva. Here’s one more. A grown cousin’s 10 year old son asked her how many times she’d had sex. She told him “Three. One for your brother, one for you and one for your little sister.” and then she muttered under her breath “and one for each major appliance I wanted.” Of course, she didn’t think he’d heard. Months later, the dishwasher broke. She saw her son walk up to her husband, give him a high five and say “Way to go, Dad!”

Okay, one more. I’m on a roll. One empty nester said she was re-doing her kitchen. Another said, “But you don’t cook!” Her reply? “I just got a new mattress, too, so what’s your point?”

Who knew relatives were so entertaining?

Une artiste

My niece, Betsy, started sketching a few weeks ago. Not that I’m unbiased, but I think she’s pretty good. She posted her latest here.