I'm Taking a Mulligan

Well, I woke up at 6 a.m., got dressed and prettied up, gathered my luggage, left my hotel room, and proceeded to fall down a full flight of stairs. The only witness was a security camera. Somewhere in Minnesota, some security guards got a good laugh at that, I'm sure. Think Chevy Chase as Gerald Ford.

After determining nothing was probably broken, sprained, or bleeding (miraculously) and that my worst injury appeared to be the missing skin from one of my hands, I gathered my things with as much dignity as I could muster and left the hotel.

Around 8:15 a.m. I remembered for the first time that it was my birthday, and called my mom from the road. During the conversation, she asked if I use tampons. Umm, what? Turns out she grabbed up a ton of free tampon samples at her gym despite the fact she doesn't have any need for such a product, and she offered them to me as a gift. Happy birthday, indeed.

I made it to Uncle D's house, where my dad was staying, and got an unfortunate glimpse of my Uncle D in his underwear.

Then we went to my Uncle R's funeral, which was not attended by two of my other uncles because they had made Jerry-Springer type plans to tell off the widow. My Uncle D told them if they couldn't attend the funeral and behave themselves, not to come at all. Uncle D is their older brother, and they listened. It's very disappointing that the two younger uncles couldn't set aside their petty personal feelings to pay their respects to Uncle R, but it's somehow comforting that sibling dynamics remain in place even into people's 40s, 50s, and 60s.

The funeral was, you know, a funeral. But when you're mourning the loss of someone who stopped being the person you once knew, it is somehow not as bad. Uncle R wasn't Uncle R anymore, and most of us had mourned his loss years ago. But I consulted with my Cousin A, and she too is freaked out about the first of that generation dying--and maybe more than I am, since Uncle R was younger than her dad (Uncle D).

Following the funeral, I went to the after-gathering. I spent most of my time with Uncle R's kids. They're cousins I don't see all that often, but I used to hang out with the daughter a lot in the summer when we were kids. The son's always been adorable, and he still is. He'll be a cute little lawyer in a year or so. Well, maybe not "little"...he's over 6'0".

At 5 p.m., I left and drove around 8 hours to get home. And here I am. Worst birthday ever. I was reconciled to the funeral and all that, because I'm not totally self-centered. But the falling down the stairs (and I am hella-sore, so I know I'll wake up stiff as a board tomorrow) and the tampon present, I can not tolerate. I call do-overs.

Posted by Jenelle at September 15, 2007 01:44 AM | TrackBack