Yesterday was Uncle E's funeral. As far as funerals go, it was a good one, representing the happy memories of his children (my cousins).
It wasn't a funeral that we were prepared to cry at. Yet, as soon as my cousins stepped up to speak, both Adam and I were snot factories. The eulogies were so touching and intimate, that it felt like they were talking about any father.
There were some funny moments, confusing my cousin S with my cousin Tommy, then apologizing, as my cousin Tommy was not there, and not only that, Tommy has an affliction. So does cousin S, and as my mother watched me call him Tommy, I guess cousin S got redder and redder, for the rest of the funeral he hid behind various flower arrangements, which my mother made aware to me this morning.
Addled and I had to go find a dress for the upcoming wedding for me, so we went to Winners and I found two, a purse to match but no shoes.
He also found some much needed summer wear.
So, after not being able to find shoes (I get flustered with colour coordination) and the fact that I just cannot walk in certain heels), we left.
I said lets just grab a burger, but then we spied an all you can eat sushi place. I was absolutely ravenous, because my stomach does not do funeral sandwiches well, they are always too creamy, buttery and mushy. The fillings, I am sure are squeezed from a tube and the butter is slathered on each piece of bread with a spatula. In my opinion, funeral sandwiches should be outlawed, although my father enjoys them, and my mother, seemed to really relish her salmon sandwich, as part of it was attached to her cheek, while socializing. Most people probably thought it was a flesh coloured mole, and my brother saw the salmon accessory drop off at the sandwich table. I did not see the offending fishy blossom, otherwise I would have whapped it off her cheek.
Realizing funeral sandwiches would most likely be served, I did eat a buttered croissant prior to attending, but by the end of the funeral, I was hypoglycemic as hell.
We sat down, looked at the very confusing menu. I wrote down my decisions vis a vis sushi, and we waited. Addled decided that he would go with my choices. They doubled my order.
A platter was brought out. I looked at the menu again. There was a warning on it, "do not waste food, you will be charged for anything you do not eat". There were also stipulations as per height requirement of children which correlated with pricing. Let me add this was an all you can eat Sushi House, and reading the small print, it was twenty dollars per adult, plus we are over four feet in height.
It was the Home Of The Sushi Nazi.
By the time there were two pieces of sushi left on the platter, I started to laugh. Since we didn't exactly know what we ordered, nor quantity, and we were pretty much feeling sick from the crunchy brown stuff inside the sushi. Laughter turned to tears, and tears were ending up in my wasabi. It was not a pretty sight.
I pictured another load of sushi being delivered to us. . .in the form of a large turkey, and being forced to eat it. The whole scenario was overwhelming. The menu did not say how much you would be charged if you left a minute piece of seaweed on your plate. It was very intimidating.
It's not like we are Sushi Veterans. When you are handed a menu, with limited pictures, it is akin to jumping out of an airplane without checking your parachute safety devices.
So after looking really ugly, with tears and blotchiness, I scooped up the remaining sushi rolls, and went to the washroom. I tossed them in the feminine hygiene disposal unit with a bunch of wadded up toilet paper, and then left the stall. All of a sudden two waitresses plowed into the washroom, one took my stall.
Trying to act nonchalant, I walked out of the washroom and reseated myself. I am positive the waitresses were checking for sushi deposits.
Upon returning to the table, a group of Japanese teenagers were getting their order. They obviously knew what to order. Their bowls were filled with wondrous little bits and pieces. Really, I haven't seen anyone eat that much in my life. Their plates kept coming. So, after letting our stomachs and nerves rest for a few minutes, we started pointing at what they had when the waitress came around.
I just finished drinking five gallons of water and have to keep my legs crossed for the next hour and a half. It's the dreaded ultra sound day, I have a hard time not peeing.
One time, I had to have an ultrasound, and the technologist was running late, she was applying makeup and talking on the phone to a loved one. I ended up peeing my pants. This bloody sucks. Adam said he would drive me there and back, I hope he isn't running late, he went to the Seaforth town wide garage sale. I wish I could have gone, but I am still driving around with the antique dresser/buffet in the back of my truck, it wouldn't be good for me to collect anything else right now, as I have nowhere to put it, and my personal sauna, not only has shoes in it, but other oddities.
Later:
As 12:10 pm rolled around, and my bladder was increasing in size, Addled wasn't home yet. It takes a half an hour to drive to my destination. I jumped into the truck and weaving around tractors, I made it to the hospital. Unfortunately, I parked on the wrong side of the hospital, and not thinking ahead, quickly made the decision to sprint to where I thought I should be. I had the foresight to wear a pair of Depends. Heck, it's better to be safe than sorry. So, with my bladder the size of a watermelon, I sprinted to an embankment. It had been freshly seeded, and therefore muddy, I ran down the hill anyhow. It must have been a sight for the receptionist, I am sure she thought with my red face, muddy feet and panting that I must have been having a heart attack.
Well, after three five minute lemon squeezes, I am back to normal.
Not finished with this post yet. |
