Funeral Songs, Lou Raguse, and Dead Batteries

Whistlin' in the Graveyard
One evening in the not-too-long-ago past, we were sitting around conversing as families often do, and for some reason we started talking about funerals and songs - or maybe the radio was on and we started talking about songs and funerals - or maybe I just dreamed the whole thing and am still dreaming and all of you and all of this is just a part of my subconscious - anyway, it occurred to me that there was one particular song I would want to have played at my funeral. I'm not sure why this occurred to me, as I'm not generally thinking about things like what song I want to play at my funeral, but it did, so I informed everyone within hearing distance that this was my desire. What is the song, you ask? A haunting ballad, of course, with poignant and heartfelt lyrics that tear through your soul and rip ragged gashes that release all the pain and tears that you (and everyone else) will have bottled up inside. Is it "Hallelujah?" Or perhaps an old standard like "Amazing Grace?" Not exactly. The song that I want to have played at my funeral is that classic tune by Kelly Clarkson - "My Life Would Suck Without You." How about you?

A rose by any other name…
While Carrie and I (and She-she Squeakers Kittyface) were sitting around watching "American Idol" last night, a promo came on for the news and the anchor's name was Lou Raguse, which Carrie said was a really cool name, which led me to teasing her about wanting to marry him so she could be called "Carrie Raguse," which she said wasn't at all what she wanted (not because she didn't want to marry Lou Raguse, but because she didn't think "Carrie Raguse" sounded all that cool). Plus, she informed me that she had recently been advised by her mother that she shouldn't change her name if and when she got married and that her mother regretted having done so when she married me. Well, as you can imagine, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that point, because this was the first I had heard of her dissatisfaction with the name she had adopted as her own lo those many years ago. So I asked Carrie if her mother had explained why she felt so put upon by the name change. Apparently, Katie is really, really tired of having to write all those extra letters every time she writes her name (easy solution - do what I do, which is to make a B, then add a scribble with a couple of loops). She also told Carrie that it's a really big hassle when you get divorced, because you have to change your name on everything - so I guess this means my wife is planning on divorcing me (little did I know) and she's also planning on our daughter being divorced as well sometime in the future (I can just see them now - two bitter divorcees going out to lunch and ripping on their exes together). As you can probably imagine, I was a little bit upset by all this, so I confronted Katie as soon as she came home from her band boosters meeting, but all she did was laugh it off and tell me to shush so she could watch the figure skating on the Olympics. Not exactly the reaction I was looking for.

Navigating the "Old Pueblo"
As mentioned previously, Carrie is now a licensed and insured driver (speaking of insurance, when I opened the envelope and saw what our new premium is with an additional driver, my contact lenses burst into flames and melted onto my corneas, which is, to say the least, quite painful). As a licensed and insured driver, Carrie recently "soloed" for the first time when she drove the truck home from the shop where we were having some work done (is it only me, or does everyone hear, "Mumbo-jumbo transitional gasket leak, gobblety-gook vacuum hose, la-la-la five hundred dollars," whenever they take a vehicle into the shop and the person working there explains the problem and what they have to do, and then you nod with a very serious expression on your face and say, "Well, I guess we'd better go ahead and do it," even though you have no idea what you just agreed to and you wonder if this person is going to go home and tell everybody about the nonsense they spewed out today at work?). But to get back to this particular anecdote, Carrie didn't actually solo when she was supposed to, because when she originally went to pick up the pickup, it didn't start, because it had a dead battery, which I suppose is kind of fortuitous, because if your battery is going to die, it might as well do it in the shop where it's convenient to get it replaced. So they replaced the battery and the truck was ready to go, and our brave little trooper slipped behind the wheel. Carrie wasn't actually all that nervous about driving by herself, but she was worried that she'd get lost on the way home - even though the shop is only 1-1/2 miles from our house and Katie would be blazing the trail by driving right in front of her. Thankfully, Carrie, and the truck, and Katie all made it home safe and sound. And apparently, the vacuum transitional gasket leak thingy (and the battery) is all fixed up because the truck is once again running fine.

That's all for this entry, so until next time may your batteries remain fully charged, may your relationships remain relatable, and may your dreams remain blissful and uncomplicated.