March 01, 2011

Dark Odds and Ends

My son turns 16 this week. Thursday. I will have a 16 year old. Crazy stuff...

I decided to redecorate his room for his 16th year. We have taken on a music theme with earth tones. He wants to hang his guitars from the wall and for his birthday, I've taken to buying him music posters.

Posters of music... HE listens too.

I ended up at Spencers at some point. Good Lord, I've not been in that store in 20 or 30 years. I'm going to question my son next time he goes in there. I think that entire store revolves around beer pong and sex.

To even get to the posters I had to pass an entire shelf of sex related stuff that I quickly tried to pass, somewhat horrified realizing my son had been in there with his buddies. I keep shaking my head trying to get the visual of what I saw out of it.

And I think the first poster I flipped to had two girls with hands in each other's pants. I did a quick flip on that one, once again thinking of my son in that store.


Anyway, I found some posters, a Victor Hugo quote on music that I thought should add more of a philosophical flair. A poster with pictures of various famous rock group guitars, that could add to discussion.

All of this to offset posters for groups he listens to.

Like... Disturbed. It is in fact disturbing.

Avenged Sevenfold. Don't let the name fool you. It's not a Christian group.

And then of course, Bob Marley. I'm not sure he really likes Bob Marley, or he likes the fact he knows how many types of lice were found in his hair upon his death. New species evidently. Those are the types of thought provoking conversations that happen in my car.

We're getting rid of stuff, getting a new throw rug for under his drumset and getting new sheets.

Right now he has a road rug from when he was a toddler under his drumset. He is perfectly cool with it, saying that all boys who were truly loved by their parents own one of these road rugs. His friends seem to agree, so even though the road rug is not considered babyish, in my mind, it's... gotta go.

Who knew when I bought that little road rug that it would eventually be a symbol of my love? Who knew?

I expect this project to be done in a month. Pictures to follow.

Sixteen. Good grief.


Mr. T finds out if he got into the high school he applied to... in two weeks. He doesn't think he got in. It's a lottery system and he feels certain he didn't make the pull.

He's going to be devastated. I know he is.

Even though we have a back up plan to attend the school that Ringo is attending, he is going to be crushed.

So a few prayers tossed that way would be appreciated. He will be fine no matter where he ends, but he has his heart set on trying this school to see if he could succeed.

The principal is allowed to take 20% of her choice. He's not the kind of kid that would make that cut. So... fingers crossed.


I received a phone call from Bones' school asking me to chaperone the Boys' Choir competition trip to Orlando. I said yes.

I'm not sure what I got myself into...


I found the most bizarre article today on Greek burial problems... rent a grave for three years and... wow.

Did anyone else see this or was I the only one with a dark enough sense of humor to have to click on the button? Ghastly... absolutely ghastly!

There are some classic lines in that article, but I think this one may be my fave:

As a pagan friend of mine put it in an e-mail, "Clearly, if you are going to clean the skull of a fellow monk to make an offering bowl to the gods, you have a very different perspective than those who talk about eternal life, pump bodies full of chemicals, and seal people vacuum-pack-style into coffins."

Good grief.

Posted by Boudicca at March 1, 2011 10:19 PM

When we lived in Mexico, the J.R. had to officiate a funeral and interment on the side of the famous Hill of the Star. 5 years was the longest rental there. While we stood around the opened grave, and the rented coffin was place in the ground for show, the kids were chasing each other with jaw bones and other assorted parts that were jutting out of the mound of dirt. How macabre! But the Mexicans teach their young to mock death, so the kids were having a blast.

Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at March 1, 2011 10:53 PM

Joan, I'm laughing. I cannot imagine watching a bunch of kids running through a cemetary chasing each other with jaw bones! Holy cats! I'm laughing at the vision!

Posted by: Bou at March 1, 2011 10:56 PM

Praying Mr. T gets in to the school he wants!

Can't imagine renting graves... I'd rather have a viking funeral.

Posted by: pam at March 2, 2011 07:49 AM

Good heavens, Disturbed is still around? My son liked them back when he was in high school. LOL. I haven't been in Spencers in years either.

I have never heard of a road rug, but up north I'd say most people still have carpet in bedrooms. Some have wood, but carpet is nicer on the feet in winter.

Got everything crossed for Mr. T. Whatever happens I know he'll do great, but it would be terrific if he got into the school he wants.

I had heard of the burial problems in Europe and the "rent a plot" type of deal they have going on. I think it's harder for Americans who have never heard of the practice and never even thought of such a thing. I feel so bad for the man who wrote the article because he wasn't even given a choice on what happened.

Posted by: Teresa at March 2, 2011 11:13 AM

Yeah, the 'road rug' was a necessity for boys. Hours of enjoyment, using their imagination.

Prayers for you son to get into his school...I have a friend going through the same worry. She's a teacher, but that doesn't get you any pull in the lottery system.

And the What a different cultural mindset. And then folks think 'world peace' is a real possibility when we can't even share the same way to 'send off' our loved ones.

Posted by: Mrs. Who at March 2, 2011 11:59 AM

Fingers crossed for Mr. T.

Eldest daughter still has hers and she's 19. I'm not allowed to touch it because apparently it's a "cherished and sacred childhood relic along with her baby quilt." Who knew? Every time I look at it and then look at her, she says to me, "Step away from the road rug or there will be road rage." We possibly may have gone wrong in our parenting over the last 19 years.

And yes, I had to laugh. 16? (I'm counting in my head five daughters from 12 to almost 20) I am surely on the back side of the mountain of life and as someone recently said to me, shouting WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE what a ride the whole way!

Posted by: Lemon Stand at March 2, 2011 06:28 PM

I had no idea there were different species of human head lice .... eeek!

I know what you mean by "road rug", but we never had one ... in spite of three boys! I hope that doesn't officially make me a bad mom. Maybe we have enough Legos to make up for it?

On the "grave" thing ... my father-in-law received a notice a few years back that the time was up on his mother's grave in Switzerland, and that she would be disinterred and cremated unless they received other instructions. I am not sure what he did about that. She was Catholic, so I suppose he may have had her transferred to a different cemetery(?).

Posted by: PeggyU at March 2, 2011 09:34 PM

Posted by: Toluca Nole at March 2, 2011 09:43 PM

Couldn't help but think of Mary Frye's poem:

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Grieving and remembering is such a persio

Posted by: Shaz at March 2, 2011 10:45 PM

sorry... was supposed to end "such a personal thing isn't it".

Posted by: Shaz at March 2, 2011 10:46 PM

I'm pretty open minded when it comes to what to do with the body after. As Shaz said, it's a personal decision. Some of it has a big ick factor, like the guy in CA who has a chemical that you pour over the body and it disolves it. Then you can pour it down the drain I guess...

That has a HUGE ick factor. But really, what's left after we're gone?

I'm a HUGE believer that this is not me. This is just what keeps me weighted down here. It's probably why I have no issues going to an open coffin and explaining about dead bodies to children. I don't view the person as who we know (in particular when the mortician has decided to give the deceased a nose job! Gah!), but rather that person is gone. I truly don't view the body as 'us'.

That said, when I go to the gravesite, I still struggle with it. Now I picture them in a box or under ground or something. There is something physical of them left and I struggle with that. I don't know why... but I do. I know it's not them, but knowing something they used that animated them, being there, bugs me.

What I found interesting was the funeral pyres that are popping up in TX and CO?! Really? TX? Is this like A&M's Bonfire? "Bring out your dead!" and we can light them with Bonfire in our own Alumna Bonfire! Woot!

Seriously, the Funeral Pyre had me thinking. That may be how I want my body disposed. Seriously. A Funeral Pyre...

Let me add as well, I feel bad for the author as he was so surprised. I asked, the Greek at work today about it. He said it has always been thus... 3 years. He also informed me your body won't decompose in 3 years, not only from foods we eat now that contain so many chemicals, but from drugs we may take as well. Interesting.

Posted by: Bou at March 2, 2011 11:36 PM

Boys start thinking about sex way before they turn 16. Fact of life. If you want to be the bestest mother ever...get him a van.

Ha Ha!!

Posted by: Yabu at March 3, 2011 06:58 AM

He also informed me your body won't decompose in 3 years, not only from foods we eat now that contain so many chemicals, but from drugs we may take as well. Interesting.

It's true! My mom is a coroner (part time), and in her training they learned about this. Here is my question - are preservatives really bad for you? All the organic food people want you to believe that, but I'm not so sure it's true. I wonder if some of those preservatives might actually slow deterioration and aging. I'd like to see a study.

Posted by: PeggyU at March 3, 2011 01:02 PM

I laughed when I read about the road rug. For my kids, it was a stepstool I made out of scrap wood. They'd stand on it to reach the bathroom sink. Years later, I got tired of it taking up space and tossed it. Not long after, one of the kids noticed it missing and I caught holy hell from all three plus my wife for just throwing it out.

Posted by: Ted at March 3, 2011 08:12 PM

No. 1, Happy Birthday, Ringo. Sixteen. Holy crap.
No. 2, We have no road rug. I feel like a bad mama. We have every Hot Wheel ever made and I intend to be buried with them, does that count?
No. 3, as for grave rentals I came upon an interesting fact yesterday via my mama. George's ancestors are from a small village in Germany and he and mama have met small faction of them and have been to the graveyard there. Now, in this village the custom is to be buried, then 25 years later your remains are dug up and given back to the family to make room for the newly deceased as the cemetary is too small to accommodate everyone. Gah! Never heard of such a thing.

Posted by: pfb at March 4, 2011 06:28 AM

Happy Birthday Ringo!!11!!XVI!!

Posted by: The Thomas at March 4, 2011 02:19 PM