My conversations turn, invariably, to how does [insert issue] affect me?

So, as we were remembering Cousin Bernie (see prior blog), SOB (sister of blogger) and I started talking about buying cemetery plots.  Actually, we have been talking about it since Cousin Gentle told us (over dinner, of course) about his trip to visit his plot.  He even did a video that he showed us.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45bMpw5CByM  SOB and I think that this video captures the humor, the eccentricities, the sweet zany-ness and the bonds of our greater Blogger clan.    We could easily see ourselves doing this, too.

SOB and I weren’t sure whether the location of our remains mattered much, assuming our souls go to Heaven (or the other place).  But we don’t know about the transportation system for souls visiting each other across the vast universe.   TLP (my son the little prince) would probably imagine a train system.  Ah, I knew Soul Train http://www.televisiontunes.com/Soul_Train.html would find its way back into vogue.   What if SOB and I wanted to see Mom or Dad or our grandparents?  Would it be a schlep?

So, just in case, we may need to be buried somewhere along the Long Island Expressway (traditionally a Jewish stop on the road to Heaven) to be close to our family and as well as an easy drive-by visit for the living.

This is very complicated.  Should we buy a large plot so we have space between us and the neighbors?  Or should be huddle together because it could get cold at night.  I might bring a sweater under my kittel (funeral gown) just in case.

Also, what with perpetual care?  TLP is our perpetual care.  Weren’t POB (partner of blogger) and I good mothers?  Certainly good enough for him to make sure that the eternal resting places for our bodies are properly maintained.  And that goes for Aunt SOB and Uncle HOSOB (husband of SOB), too.

Dear TLP, you may have to give up your day job in order to tend to our graves and show gratitude for all we did for you in our lives.  And when you do win that Nobel Prize, you’ll bury near us so we can qvell and brag to the other mothers in our section of the universe.  It is the least you could do, my sweet.

Ok, maybe I will get cremated.