Resurection

I apologize for the delay, folks. The posts are few and far between as of late, due to the weird hours of my nannying job (8 o'clock is not a cool time to let the nanny go...I feel like slave labor but I still love it).

With the outbreak of swine flu, my mom's constant shutting of her door to wracking sobs due to patient deaths, and my constant internal issues with the death of my friend Robert, every minuscule detail in my mind is focused on the afterlife. So much so that I have decided to become a mortician/embalmer.

I write them separately as they are two separate entities. One requires me to plaster on a face of mourning while running a funeral home, the other one entitles me to throw my hands into dead bodies and free them of blood while filling them with formaldehyde. Sounds delicious, I know, but it is more than that. It's respecting a person's former body while accepting that the soul is no longer there. Of celebrating their life.

Since my computer wasn't working so well, last week I went to the library to do some old fashioned research on the topic. After a quick search, I gathered up my books and sat down in a "privacy booth" right in front of an older, grouchier looking individual who kept sneaking peeks at my required reading. I guess in a New Jersey library, privacy booth's are merely a suggestion.

In any case, I discovered that sciences of the dead will most likely keep me employed and give me something really amazing to talk about at cocktail parties, bridal showers and, of course, funerals.

And quite possibly it may help me discover why people act the way they do, only to end up on a cold slab in the basement of a Dwight-Wycoff Funeral Home.

We are no different from the person standing next to us, once we kick it.

Now how am I gonna pay for all the rubber gloves...