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12/04/2003: "Cemetery tour"

Music: Blessed slience
Mood: Ramming speed

It’s starting to snow. Our six-year-old will be pleased, even if I’m not.

We have family in town for a wedding this weekend. My sister is going to take a second walk down the aisle (of the Botanical Center) with a bloke who hails from London and sprinkles his conversation with phrases like “me mum.” A nice guy, actually.

Weddings can be scary events, especially when people have enough drinks to start saying what they really think, but this one should be enjoyable. The Celtic band I’m playing with is in charge of the music. We’re planning a song, a jig and a reel, but we might throw in some Bach, if the mood strikes us.

Today’s activity is a cemetery tour. I driving me own mum to the little town 90 minutes south of here where my father’s family has its roots. She wants to visit Aspen Grove Cemetery and take photos of some tombstones for a genealogy she’s working up – one of those family stories detailing who got hung for horse-stealing and listing all the kings we are, of course, descended from. A harmless mingling of history and wishful fantasy, unless you believe my ancestors really did consort with Bonnie Prince Charles on me mum’s side, and served in the Kaiser’s bodyguard on me dear father’s side of the family tree.

This snow may make the trip interesting. Fortunately, I’m heading into winter driving an Audi A6 Avante with “Quatro” drive. It’s supposed to handle extremely well in bad conditions. We’ll see, because I like to drive fast. If there aren’t any more blog entries after this, you’ll know it didn’t work out as well as expected.

On the upside, I read in the paper this morning that virtual autopsies using CT scans and MRIs are becoming popular. Maybe if I crack up the A6 I’ll get a chance to check out one of those. But I don’t know if I’d like it. I’m an old-fashioned person. I’d prefer the traditional route, with the knives and cold metal table streaked with blood and body fluids. I’d hate to miss the organ weighing and traditional scrutiny of stomach contents to determine what I had for my last meal.

Speaking of which, my coffee is done brewing.

Selah.