Because cheapness is eternal
I tend to think ahead. Like years and decades and eons ahead. And then I speak these thoughts out-loud and expect to be taken seriously. GH usually humors me marvelously during such times. There are exceptions, though. A few weeks ago I wanted to talk about our teenagers and how much cell phone usage they should be allowed. Because it is Just That Pressing of an issue.
Him: "Look, they won't even have cell phones by then. They'll just implant something into your head and it will be AWESOME. Also? What do we do when they develop the technology for people to just start FLYING ALL ON THEIR OWN???? I mean, do we set flying limits??? How much flying per week should our children even DO???"
Humph.
Yesterday the subject of my death came up . . . somehow. I asked him where he would like us to be buried.
GH: Well, since you want to be cremated anyway it doesn't really matter.
Me: Yeah, but you could get me a headstone next to yours, still.
GH: Uh huh.
Me: OH! OH! Orrrr, we could just buy one plot, and then when YOU die they could put my urn in the coffin with you, write both our names on the headstone, and we could be buried together! It would be two-for-one! Think of the savings!
GH: Baby, we've already discussed this. I'm getting buried with my iPod. And there's no way you're getting cremated.
Me: I will if I want to be. And you can stick the iPod in my urn, I don't mind. Along with some comic books and action figures, whatever. Except if you die first, I'm taking that iPod, erasing all your stuff, and uploading all my Sumptuous Literary Adaptations on there.
I'm pretty sure that showed him.
So. What would you be buried with?
("die pod" image from the Rhys Mendes Gallery)
I'm Steph, a librarian and mom of 3 (not sure how that happened). Let's chat books, food, Sumptuous Literary Adaptations, poop, knitting and maybe some crazy Mormon Feminism.
21 comments:
I totally do this to Data. The closest he gets to humoring me is silence and a blank stare. Hmph.
Um . . does he really call you baby?
Oh, I am so glad to find out I am not the only one obsessed with "how much television our children will watch" and "how we will afford car insurance for our boys given your family's driving history". Mr. H-B will be glad to know he didn't marry a complete whack-job.
Anyway, I would probably be buried with my little iPod shuffle. It has gotten me through numerous studying sessions.
Hahaha. Sarah, during a conversation like THIS one, he does. Otherwise he calls me "Your Highness."
Hass, I hadn't even THOUGHT of the car insurance one yet! Was about to go into a tail spin before I remembered that we get wickedawesome insurance through USAA and so far (touch wood) no accidents. Our moron children drivers, on the other hand . . . this is why I feel we need to discuss now whether we are going to buy a car for the teenagers to drive.
I think viewings are creepy. Funerals, nice, viewings, not. I'm a big fan of creation--ashes scattered in the Pacific Ocean or over a national park somewhere. I don't even WANT an urn to be anywhere where anyone has to see it. What happened to pictures, people!
Plantboy has instructions to wrap my body in the most fabulous blue silk he can afford, put me in a pine box and bury me in the back yard. A lilac tree is then to be planted on the plot. And maybe some vegetables. Garden beets are my favorite.
Of course, Plantboy then ges all freaky on me and says that HE has to die first because he is terrified to date again. Hm . . . I think he acts that way because the ONE friend I could stand it if he married found a husband of her own a few years back. He could have the iPod though. I'll be grateful for the quiet.
We have also had this discussion and Jason is very upset that I want to be cremated (and sprinkled in the ocean). He says he wants a place to visit me. Which is sweet and all, except, why am I dying first exactly...?
I got to thinking about my burial plans a while ago and I've decided I want my family to get me the cheapest casket possible (from Costco, maybe) and spend the saved money on something fun.
And I want to have a bench for my headstone, because there are never enough benches in cemeteries. It was my friend Jen's idea, and I think it's great that I'll be useful even after I die.
STM forgot a crucial M in her word. I think we are all a big fan of CREATION.
My husband and I both want different things, too.
Actually, I don't care what happens to me, I'm dead. He just wants a big party with NO sappy music.
I think I'd better die first.
I think I have you beat. We aren't even engaged and we've already discussed that he gets to die first because he doesn't like cemetaries and I don't want to make him feel like he has to go visit one just becasue my body is decaying there. But he has to come back from the Spirit World to get me when I die.
I've totally already pre-ordered my head implant thing. Also, when your kids have kids, are you going to be the strict grandparents that help the parents raise them right, or the fun grandparents that the kids love to visit but their parents (your yet unborn children) hate to bring them to? It sounds a little less crazy now that I have 6 month old instead of just a fetus. But only a little.
This is too funny, because my latest blog post is also about a random discussion/debate I had with my husband. Good to know that we are not the only ones that sit around talking about such pressing matters as whether or not our kids will be allowed to eat pop tarts.
LOL
On the way to get our marriage license in Springfield, MA, my (then) future husband and I had lots of time to talk about such things.
We went from spending the two hours during Stake Conference naming our children, to that drive where I wasn't sure we were really going to get married. It seemed that things (like the future) weren't pressing matters for him.
The highlight was when he told me we needed some duct tape to tape my mouth shut for awhile. And I told him we needed some duct tape to tape his mouth into a smile.
We're happily married almost 7 years later. But he still won't talk about death plans and such. Or play the game of "what if ____ happens."
What's wrong with planning ahead?
(Word verification: thewar)
So-I just read your 4/21 post and I'm nearly convinced we worked in the same place at BYU. (I worked there from 2003-2007.)
The convincing factors were calendar delivering, creamery runs (which kept me alive), the fact that I have the shirts you mentioned, and the promotional materials part. I never made it in cuz I'm too white. Hmph.
But I'm pretty sure we were in different departments, cuz I didn't do much with editing.
I'm afraid to be buried with anything because I watched the movie Garden State. If you haven't seen it, I'm really not ruining anything by telling you that this dude's old high school friends are grave diggers for the local cemetary and before the finished burying the coffin, they'd steal all the valuables off the body. I mean... what if that REALLY happens? I'd rather my kids reap those benefits since I'll be dead anyway instead of some jack off grave robbers.
Also, I worry on a regular basis about the future of my kids and their habits. My husband thinks our kids will drink in the woods when we think they're at mutual. So, there's that.
Missionaries just asked dh (not me, even though I was RIGHT THERE, but that's a diatribe for a different day) if we would let our 1 year old play football in high school. Dh goes, "I don't see any reason not to" cuz apparently me waving and shaking my head in a HELL NO fashion wasn't visible. I don't care how big said 1 year old gets, he ain't playing no football. Maybe chess club. If he hydrates.
All I want is to be buried with my dignity.
Will that be too much to ask?
Buried in a casket from Costco in the floor of a Costco store, preferrably in the meat department, with a little Costco plaque inlaid in the floor to mark the spot.
My plan is to disappear and haunt people. Sounds like way more fun. Or just be translated.
at least, he was actually listening to what you were saying. my husband's developed an automatic turn off switch when i start rambling.
word verification: aterside - someone, somewhere should come up with possible definitions for word verifications. that would be a fun job.
p.s. awesome pic BTW. oh, and not sure what i would be buried with. a closed mouth is probably enough for those around me. (did i ever mention that i had my mouth taped shut in nursery school when i wouldn't be quiet during nap time? yes, i'm that old.)
I'm never sure the churches stance on cremation. Which is weird. I suppose I should know. But if I was cremated, I want my family to go to Disney and sprinkle a little bit of me all over the place. But they have to be sly because once someone was not sly and they closed the ride down to make sure it was not Anthrax that they were dumping in the haunted mansion. Levi and I had this discussion.
We have discussed who would die first and although Levi says he will not get re-married I gave him permission... though secretly I hope he doesn't... haha!
And I told him if he died first I would not get remarried. And if the bishop tried to pull me into his office to suggest I get re-married I would tell him to butt-out.
Having had kids who did not go drink in the woods during Mutual, whose auto insurance was astronomically high but we lived through it, who did not buy an extra car (even MORE astronomically high rates), who let 'em watch too much TV but did not allow video games, and whose son played lacrosse in which other kids go along hitting your kid with their sticks (and I didn't know this until I was watching the first game)--your kids are going to be fine. A few Pop Tarts are okay. Some TV is okay. Even football playing is okay. I want to be buried in my wedding dress in a cheap pine box, I don't care where. No technology, action figures, Legos, or comic books allowed. I I figure I've put up with enough of those as a live person.
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