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WARSPS! (Not a typo. I said Warsps. I meant Warsps.)

I am reading this REDDIT post about all the horrid things that some unethical funeral directors will tell you that you MUST do to and for bodies. Expensive, yicky, invasive things, and these sad poor destroyed mourning people pay for it all, thousands of dollars…

Me to Scott: Please don’t bury me at all, when I die. I don’t want a viewing, so I don’t need my mouth wired shut or my lids glued closed. I don’t want to be EMBALMED, even, because, UGH. Cremate my body. THE END.

Him: And do what with the ashes?

Me: Whatever you want. I am dead. I do not care. But no funeral where you have to pay someone to half-taxidermy me and put lipstick on my corpse, okay?

Him: Can I have a memorial service?

Me: Sure.

Him: Can it be a big wake, with New Orleans style blues music and an open bar?

Me: Sure.

Him: Can I register for things that I really feel like you would have wanted me to have, had you lived?

Me: … Sure.

Him: *in a mournful yet oily voice* She always said I needed a better pool cue. And I’ll need several cases of truly exquisite bourbon to keep me warm at night now. A nice black suit…

But truthfully it will not matter, because he is going to die first, because look what is IN OUR FRONT YARD:

This thing is LITERALLY the size of a basketball and BOILING with hornets. It is ten feet from the door, hidden in the azaleas. A foot off the ground, maybe. Scott is violently allergic.

If you have been wondering where the blog went, I have NOT been OMG JUST SO SO BUSY! busy. I have not been deathly ill, or killed. (You would have gotten Scot’s gift registry by now, if I had been killed) I have not been AFK saving orphans, or AFK at all really. I am AK every living second, practically. I am not in prison or out of the country or swamped with work or ANY of the reasons/excuses people put up when they have not been blogging.


I am having a Facebook renaissance.

Come and LIKE ME, if you are facebooky, too. I have been sucked all the way down into it and am putting a lot of the stuff I WOULD have blogged here up over THERE.

For example, I put the WASP PIC up there today, and I got a lot of helpful advice and now we have nice professionals coming out to murder Every. Single. Hornet.
Becausew this is the internet, I also got comments from people wondering why I would want to murder these amazing creatures and ruin their fantastically constructed house.

UMMMMM… Because I value human life more than wasp life, and my personal human husband is allergic, and I value the human life of my personal human husband even more than extremely valuable non-husbandly human life.

Even if he is going to soak you ALL for presents when I slip this mortal coil.

18 comments to WARSPS! (Not a typo. I said Warsps. I meant Warsps.)

  • Oh I am right there with you on this one. Cremate me and scatter my ashes in Napa or somewhere really cool. I don’t want somebody doing MY HAIR and MAKEUP, then having people look at me and say “well, heck that doesn’t really look like her”. Put up my most attractive picture and have a party, that is what I say. Regarding the wasps, holy crap, yes they must be murdered. DAMN but that thing is huge. I will say that every time I go out and do yard work, I am wounded by a wasp. They hide their nests until my hedge trimmers come along and upset them. They have gotten in my hair, gone down my shirt, up my shorts, and stung the living hell out of me. And I’m not allergic, but it is awful every time it happens. Wasps must die.

  • Holy Humongous Hornet Nest, Batman! That thing is crazy! It just makes me think of the end of the movie My Girl which has haunted me since I saw it as an impressionable pre-teen. I do not want Scott to end up like Macaulay Culkin. Ending up like Macaulay Culkin in any context is not good for ANYONE.

  • Linda J

    Nice to see you here again. I’ve been watching you on Facebook…(cough). If you go before Sir Scott I will send him a pair of hand sewn pink socks to hold your cremains.

    Scott YOU. ARE. GROUNDED. No going outside for you mister! Do the kids know how to use the auto injector? My sons allergist introduced us to a new one…it talks! Search for the Auvi-q. So awesome!

  • dramamama

    they have a giant hive like that at the old fernbank science center near you. (not the big fancy new fernbank with the giant dinosaurs, but the little one with the planetarium and the space capsule the monkey rode in and all those cool dioramas.) perhaps you could send your hive to live with their hive……

  • Wanda

    I like facebook too, but please please please, keep blogging as well. It’s so much more personal, and interesting, when you write it all out here.

    Flee! away away..from that hornet nest, until you have the professionals take care of that with huge insect slaying bombs of smoky hornet killing fogs. Gyaah!

    My dreaded fear is that when I pass, they’ll all gather around my former form, and remember me as I wasn’t… and spout half hearted faux happy phrases like: “Doesn’t she look good?” and “They really did a good job of making her look good didn’t they?” ( I’ve heard all these first hand.. other funerals… many times) Please just don’t!! is all I have to say on that subject.

  • Love you on FB, but I agree with Wanda wholeheartedly. Come back to us here too!

    GAH about the nest! Of course it must be destroyed. From space. We need to be sure. But that destroying must, of course, miss your house.

    I’m with you on cremation all the way. And make sure Scott has my email address for the mourning-gift registry. Will you have one if he shuffles off first? Fair’s fair, right?

  • See, I don’t wear make-up or do my hair while living. Why the heck would I want to be all done up after I’m gone? Meh. Cremate away!

    I, too, like hanging out with you on Facebook. AND I like your blog. Facebook is like quick snippets of thought. It makes me feel like we hang out even though we don’t. Your blog is like whole streams of thought. It feels like you write these awesome little essays to hold me over until your next book comes out. Facebook is the Cliffs notes of your blog and I was always more interested in the whole shebang.

    I’m not a fan of hornets, however cool their nests may be. When I was a kid, maybe 12 years old, my cousin found herself in the unenviable position of having a hornet get inside her shirt somehow. We didn’t know it was there until her mom touched her back and made that thing mad. Then she was running and screaming all over the house while her mom tried to catch her to kill the damn thing and stop the stinging. In the end, she was about as okay as you can be after being stung by a hornet, what seems like now to be, innumerable times on her back. **shudder**

  • edj

    My husband and I have discussions like that. I am very worried that if I go first, my memorial (I’m with you on the embalming. Yuck! Icky! Big waste of money!) will consist of music from the era of classical rock, and I will be sent off to Jimi Hendrix or Bob Dylan. (I hate Bob Dylan…not personally or totally, but often and particularly) However, if he dies first, we will sing old Welsh hymns at his memorial. I will win. My way makes more sense and people will appreciate it.

    and WARSPS! Nonono! Please get someone out to get rid of them and save your husband the indignity of death by wasp sting, which you must admit doesn’t sound very macho.

  • DebR

    I’m glad you’re calling in the pros, since “disturb a nest of warsps for no good reason” is an official Dumb Way to Die.

  • Bless you for the Monday pick-me up. Good luck getting rid of the insects that shall not be named. For the record, I think I’m going to donate my body to science (if they’ll have it) and I’m sure Mr. K would like a Disney annual pass to ease his sorrow.

  • Jennifer Kepesh

    Oh, so happy to hear that you and Scott plan for your deaths appropriately. When I was married, I told my ex-husband that he should dump my ashes in the hole in which he planted a Double Delight rose which he and the children should water with their tears. He told me that I should haul his ashes up to the tiny town in Idaho which is hours from every airport and a long ugly drive from there, and I would say to him, in an obvious, “I am lying to you” voice, “Of course I’ll do that!” I also told him that once he was dead, I was going to go on a cruise to soothe my misery and that I would let Raoul the towel boy make me feel better. It is so much more cheerful to contemplate mourning if one does so in a 40’s movie haze.

  • Yes, please, to destroy those amazing creatures and their astonishing creation. Yes. With villianous poisons. I am all crawly from looking at that picture.
    But I have two reasons to disagree with your death plans. First of all, a grave site is a place for your loved ones to visit and do the long, hard work of saying goodbye. They can leave stones on your gravestone, which feels better, somehow. And it’s a fine place to pray.
    Secondly, a friend of mine who is Orthodox once told me that at an Orthodox funeral, the casket is always open (if possible. Not if the person died in a fire or something, because. Well.), because the dead person is considered an icon of the resurrection. So we can all look at the unique and terrible stillness that death is, and know that there is an overcoming and beautiful animation that answers it. You once told me that there must be a resurrection side of death, or it wouldn’t be.
    But you should definitely work out the details of your funeral before you die, so it’s all written down. It’s a terrible plan to have your loved ones try to figure all that out while they’re also trying to believe you’re gone. Stupid. I cannot die any time in the next twenty seven years, because I will not have time to do that before then. It’s my health plan.

  • Beth

    I totally agree about the body thing. I want them to go all Six Feet Under on my body….cardboard box under a tree, except maybe not in California. Maybe in Georgia, in the “green” cemetery or something.

    And this is the second time this week I’ve heard about someone having wasps in their azaleas! Is this a Thing? Yikes.

  • Brigitte

    Ooh, is a my-spouse-just-croaked gift registry for REALS!?

  • I went to my very first “Death Cafe” Saturday at Oakland Cemetery. They served snacks and cake and we talked about death. It was fascinating, and CAKE! I think our culture has distanced itself from death in a very detrimental manner. The money spent, the stress of not being certain that you are making the same choices the person who is no longer alive would really want, and all the other things that happen. Good for you for talking about it, but Scott may need just a *wee* bit more instruction.

    I want music and drinking and laughing and general shenanigans at my memorial service. I will be haunting if everyone wears black and ties and uncomfortable shoes.

  • Elizabeth

    oooh— May I have the nest! When they’re all dead, may I have it? I’ll pay for everything if you just drop it off at kinko’s (now fedex but I don’t know anyone who calls it that)– they’ll pack and ship to me. I’ve always wanted one… since growing up in MS…

  • Chelsey

    I’m so glad someone else has had that conversation with their spouse. Mine has decided that should he go first I am to preserve him and bury him wearing a crown with all of my jewelry and various things and a scroll…proclaiming him king. All this so he can either A.) Mess with someone digging him up in the years to come. or B.) If aliens come to Earth he wants them to think he was a king.

    Having a friend who is a mortician I have been promised a large list of amazing and hilarious things done to my corpse to mess with my family at the wake (where there will be a registry for my other half should I go first. He wants a blender) Then and only then will I be cremated. There will also be funeral cake, because cake makes everything better.

  • I got rid of one of those in my backyard some years ago. Wore long, cinched, heavy, loose clothing, gloves and a mask in the ATL summer. Waited until the insecting activity in and out had ceased—i.e., until near dark. Took a double bagged, heavy-duty black trash bag and quietly eased it over the hole and quickly cinched it up. Tight. There was plenty of buzz in that bag, I assure you, even though it had been doused with a hornet stultifier ahead of time. Prolly purty stoopid on my part, but not one sting resulted I’m proud to say.

    Good thing, too. I got stung by one of those bad boys a couple weeks ago. Rested my hand on a post down at Medlock Park after a long, hot run and YEEEOUCHHHHH! Finger swoll up real good.

    Be keerful!