Monday, March 17, 2014

The last supper (with my suocera)
At dinner this evening  we all almost lost it at the table as Anna changed the topic to her favorite one: death. At one point we were all tearing up from inappropriate laughter. She told the story of yet another friend's funeral which included a red jacket worn by the departed on her last trip to Paris (necessitated by the succession of a republican to the white house), a delayed discovery of the corpse (due to the sudden desire to relocate to Paris), the appearance of a live cow at the funeral, and (this is where we lost it) the ringing of cow bells at said funeral. I regained my composure as Anna explained how the daughter of the deceased read the contents of the dearly departed's refrigerator which was written on two pages of legal paper and contained ingredients that everyone present could "relate to" whether it be "a curry, a caper, or a chutney."

After a glass and a half of wine, I engaged in some dreadful behavior of my own, and asked our friend Salvatore who is the restaurant owner downstairs to bring us the check, and then added in Italian that the sooner the better or that the next funeral story would be my own. 

T pointed out that Anna seemed cheery about her return to American soil and to her dear dog Sally, who is, for what it's worth, deaf. T also made the astute comment, the imagery of which I feel compelled to share with you, that Anna seemed as though she were thumping a triumphant, if imaginary fist, in the air as she slowly made her way back to the hotel and we could almost hear her cry out, "Bridge club, bitches." And then . . .  with a sly Lily Tomlin-esque smile, "I'm back."

No comments: