umm, WHAT?

While sitting in traffic the other day I noticed this truck in front of me. Someone skipped out on Catechism a bit early. Amazing.

My head was spinning with the images before me. Was this person serious? (Imagine the back windows open! Hail Mary full of bow-chicky-bow-wow.) Hope this guy doesn't expect Mary to do him any favours...prob'ly not gunna happen.

How does he explain this to his mothers or sisters? Or Gramma? Oy.

I don't care what religion you are, this is disrespectful on too many levels.

I put the FUN in funeral...

The Lost Member of ZZ Top
Originally uploaded by zodmczod.

I haven't blogged in a few days because it's been very busy around here. One of the things which took some of my time was a funeral.

An elderly lady friend of mine lost her second husband and asked if I would, once again, sing at her husband's funeral. (This is an offer I get on occasion. It's not that I sing particularly well; more like, "hey they're mourning already, if they are crying you won't know if it's because of you or the deceased...") She picked out two hymns, "Abide With Me, 'Tis Eventide" and "How Great Thou Art". Not perky numbers, but good for getting your grief on. Which they did. Afterwards there were the obligatory compliments on the vocals, and a few -let's say oddities...

This funeral was attended mostly by the elderly. The elderly who are part of a grief support group named "Widows and Widowers". They get together once a month to eat, visit and dance. I, because of the church ward I live in, have many elderly women friends, most of whom belong to "WOW" (I know, it should be "wAw", but I think they thought they sounded to much like WAH! so they went with WOW! -which sound likes they are happy 'you know who' kicked the proverbial bucket, bought the farm, well, you know.) Many of my friends were there. Many other ladies and gents were there whom I had yet the "pleasure" of meeting.

One such gal approached me after the funeral, teary eyed and obviously grief stricken. She said she thought I had a nice voice and then asked "do you have a car?" "Thank you and, um, yes. " "Are you going to the grave side services?" Well at this point, no I was not going to go, but she looked so helpless so I lied and said "yes" anticipating her request for a ride. One thing led to another and, yup, she needed a ride. Seems she was dropped off at the funeral home and yada yada yada she was my new "friend" for the day. Before we left however, there was some down time and post funeral visiting. Other folks came around and we chatted about this and that and waited for the procession to gear up. While chatting with a girl friend of mine an elderly guy -similar to the photo above - came by and gushed about my voice and how pretty it was. "Thank you, you're very kind." "No, not really, I'm old (like 90) and I been around. I know what I like and I like you." "Well, my. Thank you again." and then he left.

My new friend came back to hitch her ride. She was in her late 70's if she was a day. Wearing a hot pink floral print knee length skirt, hot pink tank top with spaghetti straps and platform (you guessed it) hot pink sandals with sequin straps and a huge pink daisy on each toe. She had several tattoos; one on her right calf of a "native style" hula girl holding a martini glass. (late 70's!) Her hair was a toss up of gray and bleached blond and somewhat antigravitorial in poof. She got into the car and tells me she is grateful for the ride - "because most women don't like [me]." "Oh, I can't believe that! You seem really (what's the word here....?) fun!" "Well they don't like me. I know that much. I know the men do, they're friendly enough, but the women have always just shunned me." -Changing the subject- "So how did you know (the deceased)? Are you family?" "No. no. I knew him through the WOW. He would dance with me, but the ladies all hated me. I was in show business and they just hate that." (we interrupt this clever repartee to ponder why S'mee didn't see this coming and avoid it altogether.. Oblivious to seeing that train coming she goes ahead with her question...) "Were you an actress, or did you sing, or were you more in the production end?" "I was an exotic dancer." (did you hear that train derail? Did you see the mayhem?How 'bout the destruction at all? Call for back up! Do something girl!) "Oh, well, um, well, I'm sure you did just fine. Oh look the traffic is piling up!" "Yeah, I made tons of money and gave my kids ponies and whatever they wanted. It was d*mn good money." Realizing that S'mee has caused the wreck herself she tries to set up a triage... "Well, I guess we are going to have to wait here for a few minutes. Look how pretty the day is. I just love this part of the valley, very peaceful. A good resting place." and the conversation just went, well, um, more exotic as we waited to get our space and see the dead honoured via bugle.

As I dropped her off back at the funeral home she said, "Thanks again. My name is Cindy, with an S." (crickets chirping while S'mee puts it all together...) ohhhh. SINdy. Got it. right.

Meanwhile back at the ranch...

The funeral luncheon back at the church. S'mee shows up a tad late to help set up, but there are a few church ladies out in the hall waiting for me. I explain about being needed by a "little old lady who didn't have a car" and left it at that. Low and behold my gentlemen friend (ZZ TOP) is coming down the hallway in time to hear one gal ask why she didn't see me for the set up at the church. "I had to sing at the funeral. " "Oh, that's right." ZZ TOP comes up and says very loudly (and a bit televangelistic), "This woman, NO! This angel from God sang! She has the voice of the peaceful doves, and it was so beautiful! I almost cried!" YIKES-OLA! brother - get a grip! "Thank you, again." "NO!" (holding his hand up as if to stop traffic) "NO! You are a grace! Give me a hug!" "Thank you." (hug) um, time to let go now, oakey dokey HuUuuGGgss OOvver! I get out of this old geazer's hug but he STILL has his hand firmly around my waist. The gals in the hallway are now in a combination of out and out laughter and gross out, as am I. "O.k. well then! Thanks again, now you better get in there and get some lunch now! Thank you." and I peel myself away from creepy old guy. "Only if you come with me honey" and then the "I think I'm going to barf right here and now phrase of the day": "GgggrrrriiioooowwwLLLllllllll!" yup, he growled like Roy Orbison on crack. (Can I take hot shower now?)

Nice to know I still have it.

I loooove L.A.!

When you begin the day with a "chocolate cream frappachino, medium please, and ummm, a rice crispy treat, thank you", life is good. I met up with Chronicler (sorry no link here, 'puter problems - see the side bar - Food Chronicles) and we set out for a day in LA. Upon arrival at the prearranged meeting place I was early. Knowing Chronicler enjoys a good strawberry whozit from Starbucks, I called her on the cell and asked if she would like to start the day and make it a "sugar high Thursday"? I found the perfect spot, ran in and met with a terrific English gentleman behind the counter. He could tell immediately that I was a Starbucks virgin and helped me through the process. I felt like a dork anyway and just ordered the same as Chronicler.

She met me half way down the block, having parked her baby (a cute little 'cooper') in a safe spot waaaaaay far away in a distant galaxy where she would be safe from the day's dings. We set out and drove in to LA to the garment district where I was promised I could find a "cheap yet reliable tailor" to alter the wedding dress I purchased for my son's upcoming nuptial celebration. I wrote earlier about buying the dress (on sale for $50). After finding a parking spot, adding 50 cents to a meter, Chronicler and S'mee-self waited with a group of non English speaking workers for an elevator up to the 2nd floor of a very "funky" building. After nodding and smiling a while we got off on our floor and walked in to find two very kind tailors willing to help me out.

How much to alter the dress? "Poot on first, then we see how mooch." After dressing, the two gentlemen are all over me with pins and tape measures and I look as though I am an albatross awaiting a dry landing with my arms hanging there (flapping?). After the last pin was set one of the men said, "Ooohkay, now you take off and be 3 hours back, please." "How much for the alteration?" I asked. His reply, "Three hours back please. Mooch work. Take long time." So once again the query, "How. Much. Money?" "Three hours back please, mooch work, seventy doolars, seventy uh huh, three hours you come back please."

I paid $50.00 for the dress. I don't care how mooch work, I can't pay $70 to get it right. "Well, thank you, but I cannot afford $70 for the alteration. Thank you." And I begin to take the jacket off. "Hoold it please!" and at that he was on his knees taking all the pins out o the hem.

We walked down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the very slow elevator. (Creepy factor HIGH) Chronicler suggested we head over to the Farmer's Market/The Grove for lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant (hey you took home the wrong bag and you have my meatball sub leftovers!). We walked through Barnes and Noble and did some critiques of Cook books, and debated chefs versus cooks. (Flo Braker = cook Giada DeLorentes = food network eye candy) As we headed back to the freeway we stopped by a couple of Cake Bakeries; each sitting cheek to jowl of the other (in fact, the one was in the middle of the other - complicated, but true). Chronicler and I parked the car, ran across traffic and went in to see what all the fuss was about. Here in LA these are the two places to go for wedding or real party cakes. Who really had the best? She had to know! So we went in each store, tasted samples and perused the displays of their talented bakers/decorators. The cakes were indeed delicious and some were amazingly complicated in design and technique, although I didn't see too much that I hadn't see already in books.

I think Chronicler will probably write up the stores and bakeries, so I will let the Cook do her job well. On the way home we talked and chatted and, as what is becoming a habit, ended up at the Cheesecake Factory to grab tonight's dessert. YUM!

What about the dress? Well, Chronicler and I decided that if she pinned and scrunched, that perhaps I could do a fair Dr. Frankenstein and end up altering it myself. So next week it's back down to her house for a scary few hours of sewing; and hopefully the dress will be fine. Hopefully.