Today was my sister-in-law's 30th birthday. I haven't had my 30th birthday, but it seems to me that the 30th birthday would be one where you would do a lot of reflecting. Maybe not. I didn't really do a lot of reflecting on my 25th birthday which is also arguably an important birthday. I did wear fabulous boots though, paired with a denim skirt and a blue cotton button-down maternity shirt. So I looked kind of like a cowgirl. A pregnant cowgirl, and I remember reflecting about that, but not much else. I sent nine e-mails that day, according to my sent box, and I only mentioned by birthday in one of them, and that was a thank-you message for a birthday present. In fact, I'm probably reflecting more about my 25th birthday right now than I did on the actual day.
My sister-in-law is one of the most selfless people I know, and I hope that if she reflects on the last thirty years, she's happy with all of the good things she's done for other people her entire life.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
A perfect day
I think it should be noted that today was my husband's perfect day. Among other things, he found out he had inherited money, he won a scholarship, he made his three-month-old baby laugh like crazy, and he ate sushi. I said "among other things" because there really were other things that made the day perfect. I didn't even mention that his debtors and creditors class was cancelled or that he woke up earlier than he has in weeks after getting a full night's sleep. And even now that I have mentioned two more things, I still haven't mentioned all of the things that made the day great. So just imagine how great this day was for him. And when my husband has a perfect day, I have a great day, not perfect but pretty darn great. I mean, I get to share the free money, the baby laughs, and the sushi.
The first post
Someone from church called me last week to ask if I'd play piano for a funeral on Saturday, last Saturday. I had never met the man who died, but that didn't surprise me because I only know about 5 people in our ward by name (this is not typical for me, but it is the current situation). I said that was fine, and they told me it would only be hymns from the hymnbook so I could just show up when the funeral started.
I haven't been to that many funerals, but I've been to a few profoundly sad ones. I think this one was the saddest one I've ever been to. There were probably about 15 people there. The first speaker was the man's apartment manager, the second was his neighbor's mom, and his brother also spoke, even though he started by saying that he never really knew him because he went to college when his brother was still a child. A man who'd never met him sang a song, I played the piano, and the first counselor in the bishopric conducted the whole thing. There was one tiny flower arrangement. I hardly know any of the details about this man's life, and I don't really know how he died (they mentioned he was "found"), but I'd never been to a funeral before where so little could be said about the life of the person who had died.
I'm pretty sure that if I died today, my funeral would be sad because it would have to be kind of a freak accident or medical surprise, but it would be well-attended by really fabulous people. My hope is that this would be the case no matter when I die. I've been kind of jolted into loneliness ever since I finished law school in April, and I think this blog is a way to reassure myself that, regardless of how few people I see, I can still communicate my disarmingly clever, insightful, refreshing, and exhuberant ideas into cyberspace. This blog will not fill the chairs at my funeral, but it will curb my loneliness and provide an outlet for the above-mentioned ideas. My baby will fill the funeral chair. Between my blog and my baby (and a bunch of other projects I've gotten started), I will climb a spiral of happiness and fulfillment to heights yet unknown.
So here I begin . . .
I haven't been to that many funerals, but I've been to a few profoundly sad ones. I think this one was the saddest one I've ever been to. There were probably about 15 people there. The first speaker was the man's apartment manager, the second was his neighbor's mom, and his brother also spoke, even though he started by saying that he never really knew him because he went to college when his brother was still a child. A man who'd never met him sang a song, I played the piano, and the first counselor in the bishopric conducted the whole thing. There was one tiny flower arrangement. I hardly know any of the details about this man's life, and I don't really know how he died (they mentioned he was "found"), but I'd never been to a funeral before where so little could be said about the life of the person who had died.
I'm pretty sure that if I died today, my funeral would be sad because it would have to be kind of a freak accident or medical surprise, but it would be well-attended by really fabulous people. My hope is that this would be the case no matter when I die. I've been kind of jolted into loneliness ever since I finished law school in April, and I think this blog is a way to reassure myself that, regardless of how few people I see, I can still communicate my disarmingly clever, insightful, refreshing, and exhuberant ideas into cyberspace. This blog will not fill the chairs at my funeral, but it will curb my loneliness and provide an outlet for the above-mentioned ideas. My baby will fill the funeral chair. Between my blog and my baby (and a bunch of other projects I've gotten started), I will climb a spiral of happiness and fulfillment to heights yet unknown.
So here I begin . . .
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