I already have a grave site, in Massachusetts. The cemetery where my grandparents and several other relatives were buried was filling up, so my mom purchased six plots -- her own, my dad's, me, my sister, and our future husbands.

I went to the gym, did not kill any tourists on the way home, and my arms are sore from lifting weights. Someone send a cabana boy chef to my place so he can make me dinner.

Or I could just heat up leftovers and cook tomorrow.

And ALLYSON! YAY! Just catching up.

I think my mom bought grave plots for me and my sister, but if I'm buried I don't want to spend eternity in Hartsville TN.

If you're cremated, you can fit many more people in the family plot, as it turns out...

We used to hang out at the cemetary where my grandparents are all the time. Last time I was in the area I went and had lunch there.

When my mom died, we knew we wanted her there. (Back to Canada, to her home and all. And she had a horror of cremation.) They had one plot open in the main area - right next to her parents. I mean, immediately next to them. I'm sure they had just revised the standards and decided they could squeeze one more in between them and the big tree a yard or so away. But jesus. That may have been the one time in the world that made me feel like there was something - karma, power, whatever. It kind of gives me chills still.

Cremains creep me out because there's often an identifiable tooth or finger bone left over. Maybe if they promised to run me through a food mill, or a little mortar and pestle afterwords I wouldn't mind.

I like graveyards but have no desire to take up space in one.

The opposite for me: I want to take up space. I want my body in the earth and providing nutrients to the soil. I don't want to be embalmed, really. Just wrapped in linen and planted six feet deep.

My brother got this crazy idea somewhere that he wants a bench to be made of his bones (including skull) in a park or somewhere, with a vaguely pompous plaque that then invites you to sit your ass down on him. He wants to continue to unnerve and alarm people in death.

Tell your brother I approve of his idea and wish to subscribe to his newsletter.

Just wrapped in linen and planted six feet deep.

Yeah, that has a certain appeal.

On this subject, has anyone read Stiffed by Mary Roach?

It's fascinating. She goes into all the various things that happen after you're dead - regular burial, cremation, crash test dummy, body farm, etc. Some of it is hard reading, and not always the parts you expect.

But her writing style is very Buffista, so it's a hugely entertaining read even if you have to skim over a part or two.

I really enjoyed the section of J.G. Ballard's memoir where he talks about his cadaver in medical school. It's kind of a love note, though not in the necrophilia way. Maybe a little, but more the intimacy of knowing this woman through anatomical dissection. She had been a doctor herself and left her body to science. It was macabre, and funny and lovely and weird.

Speaking of dissection, have you all seen that new book out of vintage dissection photos? It's not about the cadaver but the culture of medical school anatomy classes, and how people would pose with the cadaver and write mottos in latin in chalk along the side of the dissection table and suchlike.