Sunday, June 27, 2010

Clothes of the Dead

So, now that Mom's dead and unburied, I'm finally getting back to my normal routine.  But, before that could happen, there were a few things to sort out down in Florida.  One of the delights of dealing with death is the disposal of the deceased's worldly goods.  Never a pleasant task, even in the most agreeable of families.  Personally, I always thought Inheritance Smack Down would make a great reality show. 

You know... put a bunch of relatives of some poor deceased rich slob in a room together with a shit load of booty and let them duke it out over who gets what while some scrawny attorney looks on and wrings his or her hands in dismay.  Screaming, yelling, punching and hair pulling excess at its finest!  The winner gets to take all the good stuff and cash, while the losers get to split a time share in a condo on a flood plain overlooking the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.  I'm really amazed that no one has come up with a show like that yet. 

While in Florida, my sisters and I got to go through Mom's stuff and choose what we wanted before shipping off the rest to the Hospice Thrift Shop.  Yay!  Clothes of the Dead!  We had a good time, dressing up just like we did when we were kids.  We let my niece come along to take her pick of the finest in women's jettisoned clothing, hats and costume jewelry.

Number One Daughter, Ilsa & Eowyn looking their finest.

A good time was had by all.  We packed up the Clint Eastwood outfit to send to Waldo, since he couldn't be there to get his share.  I let the rest of them take all of the jewelry except for one rhinestone necklace, which I kept for sentimental reasons.  I used to love to play dress up with it as a little girl.

The only bone of contention was my mother's mink coat.  She bought it in London about twenty years ago and wore it to the Queen's birthday celebration where they trooped out the royals onto the balcony of the palace.  None of us were really keen on having a mink coat.  After all, my female siblings live in Florida for cryin' out loud and I have far too many friends who are members of PETA to be able to wear it in public.  But once when we were visiting, Vlad dressed up in it and called it his pimp coat and asked his grandma if he could have it.  Once he added a fedora, he looked quite fetching!  Mom was horrified at the thought of her grandson wearing her beloved coat as a Halloween costume, so she said no way! 

But in the end, guess who got it?  Good thing she was cremated instead of buried, 'cause otherwise Mom would be rolling over in her grave right about now!
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