So, Mom’s memorial was yesterday. All the neices and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. Well, most of them. And if they weren’t there, they still raised a deviled egg in her memory. There was food. And strawberry soda. And laughter. And memories. I saw my uncle Bill (whom I never really saw growing up). And the mysterious other brother Eric (the only difference between Bigfoot and my youngest brother is that there are more credible sightings of Bigfoot than my brother…). It was a potluck, with plenty of deviled eggs. And another cousin forever condemned to bringing a certaind dish to all family gatherings. Just like aunt Mary and her taco dip….
There were memories shared. And all of Mom’s purses. I hate to say this, but she bought them like they were single-use items. And I’m still using the backback that my boss got me a week before he fired me (that’s an even longer story, and I’ve covered it already in several other posts).
May Barabra Bryant spend all of eternity frolicking amongst The Beer Volcano and Stripper Factory.
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