Great news, DJ!

That is great news, DJ!

In other news, is AIM being balky for anyone else? It's not showing any of my contacts, whether on or offline.

Man is that Flight attendant who dramatically quit his job getting the press.

I haven't even been seeking out the story (well, not much) and keep running into it today.

Someone who can curse out a couple of physically and emotionally antagonistic passengers, quit, grab a beer, check to see if anyone is outside, pull the emergency door, slide down the chute and go inside and collect his belongings, then drive home before anyone comes after him is probably going to find other work.

I'd say he'd still make a fine flight steward. I'd certainly want him in charge of my emergency exit. He remembered the beer!

Maybe he can get a job with KLM.

Okay, before I say anything about the funeral, I have to share a link and a story. The link is from Hyperbole and a Half (source of "Clean all the things!"): Dog.

The story is this: we just tried the dog-biscuit-under-a-cup test described in the link above. I was SURE Chloe (the dalmatian) would fail miserably, and Kato (the coonhound) would figure it out in 5 seconds.

It took Kato about 45-60 seconds, and he kept turning around and walking towards me like, "Where's the treat?", and then I would cheat and point at the cup.

It took Chloe about 20 seconds, 10 of which involved her trying to eat the cup.

Kato didn't seem ashamed that the same dog who walks into a corner and then doesn't know how to get out was able to get the treat out from under the cup in 1/3 the time it took him. So at least he has healthy self-esteem.

The funeral was lovely. And so fucking hard. I thought I would never stop crying. The communion crossed-arms thing was fine (although when I went up and bowed my head and the priest said the blessing, my mind went blank for a split second -- I couldn't think of "amen" -- and I finally whispered "Thank you," and went back to the pew).

The cemetery is right behind the church, and up a wee hill, so we processed out behind the casket, and I was weeping like a banshee. Immediately it's 1,000 degrees out and more humid than the equator. (No, I'm SURE THAT'S NOT HYPERBOLE, REALLY.) I have never sweated so much, so quickly.

So we walked up towards the grave site, come around a small corner, and there's the dude who (I guess) would be interring the casket standing by the grave site, in jeans and a tank-top undershirt. And it was so unexpected and incongruous, I almost bust out laughing, but it came out like a bark, so I turned it into a cough.

As we're walking up behind the pallbearers with the casket, Tim's dad pulls his camera out of his jacket and turns it on. Tim's brother took it from him, figuring that he shouldn't have to take pictures of his own wife's funeral.

Now, I take a lot of pictures of family shindigs, and I sort of have the reputation of being the chronicler of family events. So Tim's brother turned towards me and asked me if I could take a few pictures of the pallbearers with the casket. So, in heels, I dashed around the wall at the bottom of the hill to try to get a good view, since I couldn't *run* up the hill to get next to or even in front of them.

I managed to get one very good shot, and several good enough ones. And I could see people looking at me like, "Who takes PICTURES at a funeral?!?" and I admit I was thinking the same thing -- I've never seen it done, and there's something about it that seems tacky, like a funeral is too sacred to whip out the camera.

But you know what? He was burying his *wife.* Whatever that man wanted, if it was within my power, I was going to do for him. And I thought, if people think I'm being tacky (I doubt they saw that Tim's dad was the one who originally pulled out the camera), I don't actually give one damn shit.

The rest of the day was fine -- there was lunch in the church basement, and I lost count of the number of extended family who made you-should-get-married hints. (Hints? More like anvils. "You know, it's a shame we only get together on *sad* occasions; we need to get together for a happy occasion, like A WEDDING!" [pointed glance at Tim and/or me.] If the hint-er was hinting to me alone, like if Tim was elsewhere, I just laughed and said, "Don't talk to ME about it!" and left them to the conclusion that I was waiting for Tim to propose, which I am not, but I was more than happy to leave it at that.)

The immediate family went back to Tim's parents' house after lunch, and just hung out. No weeping and wailing or anything; we looked at some photo albums, including his parents' wedding album, and his dad told us the story about how they met and how he proposed.

Their house is way out on the edge of a huge park/forest, and they have like 10 acres (about 9 of which is woods). Their backyard looks out on the woods, and they get lots of birds and other animals, including tons of deer.

When we were hanging out, one of Tim's brother's noticed a fawn in the backyard (not a wee fawn, maybe adolescent), wandering around and eating grass here and there. Tim's dad said it was way too late in the year for a fawn to be there. And the fawn wandered around some more and then went on into the woods.

Do I think the fawn was Tim's mom? Not really. But it was still a really lovely moment.

Now I am going to go to bed and hopefully not wake up until my alarm goes off. I've been getting to bed well after midnight most nights, and I am absolutely unfuckingbelievably exhausted.

Have good sleep, Teppy.

Our family took lots of pictures at my Dad's funeral. I took a lot of them, myself.

Everyone grieves in their own manner.

Whatever that man wanted, if it was within my power, I was going to do for him.

And that's what makes you family. I'm glad they have you, and you them, especially right now.

You're a gem, Steph. It sounds like a wonderful day (wonderful considering the circumstances, of course).

Your fawn sounds like my bees.