When I die...
I'm always reading or hearing about these people who, after they died, left behind a house filled with stacks of old newspapers and magazines ( I do believe that one person actually died when stacks of the magazines finally toppled down on him/her), basements filled with hundreds of empty jars (you never know when you might need them), coupons, rubberbands, junk mail...you name it.
Well, when I die, they're gonna have to dig for body amidst piles of shells, rocks and beach glass. In fact, word to my family, you might as well just toss 'em on top of my corpse and erect a nice cairn where I finally croak - it'll save you money and trouble. And if the cats want to gnaw on my flesh for a few days before my body is discovered, that's okay too. Don't hold it against them. After all, they have to eat. I want to make sure they have good homes when I'm gone and I don't want to be hearing any rumors about Tsavo developing a taste for human flesh.
He already has one, y'know.
Where did this morbid thought come from? Well, every day this long holiday weekend I've taken Boska for two, two and a half hour walks (today actually hit three hours) and have come home each day with a canvas Trader Joe's bag filled with beach treasures. I have empty plastic cat little containers in the garage that are rapidly filling up with sand dollars, scallop shells, drift wood and interesting beach rocks. I have large shells filled with beach glass scattered throughout the house. I have jars and vases filled with beach glass sorted by color on the shelf up above the stove.
True, I have plans for some of my treasures. I've made some ginchy ornaments with sand dollars and scallop shells by coating them with a layer of hot water and Elmer's glue to make them more durable, then putting a sheer irridescent gold or pearly paint on 'em. Add some ribbon, hang it on your Christmas tree. Put a selection of beach glass in one of the scallop shells, wrap it in holiday cellophane and sent it to like-minded beach glass obsessed friends and family. I've got other plans as well, but my family reads this blog and I'd be spoiling my mother's birthday surprise if I said much more.
Point being, that I still have a buttload of shells, etc. And I show no signs of being able to resist the impulse to add to my collection.
I'm not sure if there's a 12 step program for this sort of addiction. Just promise me that if you're the one that finds my corpse, you'll make sure I'm buried with my treasure. And don't try and steal any. I've read EC Comics and I WILL come after you.
Well, when I die, they're gonna have to dig for body amidst piles of shells, rocks and beach glass. In fact, word to my family, you might as well just toss 'em on top of my corpse and erect a nice cairn where I finally croak - it'll save you money and trouble. And if the cats want to gnaw on my flesh for a few days before my body is discovered, that's okay too. Don't hold it against them. After all, they have to eat. I want to make sure they have good homes when I'm gone and I don't want to be hearing any rumors about Tsavo developing a taste for human flesh.
He already has one, y'know.
Where did this morbid thought come from? Well, every day this long holiday weekend I've taken Boska for two, two and a half hour walks (today actually hit three hours) and have come home each day with a canvas Trader Joe's bag filled with beach treasures. I have empty plastic cat little containers in the garage that are rapidly filling up with sand dollars, scallop shells, drift wood and interesting beach rocks. I have large shells filled with beach glass scattered throughout the house. I have jars and vases filled with beach glass sorted by color on the shelf up above the stove.
True, I have plans for some of my treasures. I've made some ginchy ornaments with sand dollars and scallop shells by coating them with a layer of hot water and Elmer's glue to make them more durable, then putting a sheer irridescent gold or pearly paint on 'em. Add some ribbon, hang it on your Christmas tree. Put a selection of beach glass in one of the scallop shells, wrap it in holiday cellophane and sent it to like-minded beach glass obsessed friends and family. I've got other plans as well, but my family reads this blog and I'd be spoiling my mother's birthday surprise if I said much more.
Point being, that I still have a buttload of shells, etc. And I show no signs of being able to resist the impulse to add to my collection.
I'm not sure if there's a 12 step program for this sort of addiction. Just promise me that if you're the one that finds my corpse, you'll make sure I'm buried with my treasure. And don't try and steal any. I've read EC Comics and I WILL come after you.
posted by Dana Fredsti @ 1:47 PM
4 Comments:
At 4:17 PM,
Other Lisa said…
er, well, you shouldn't take too many because...aren't shells and sand dollars and things limited resources or something?
At 9:56 AM,
Dana Fredsti said…
Oh, Other Lisa, you should see the stuff I DON'T take...and as long as the little buggers keep dying (I never take live sanddollars or scallop shells that still have residents), there will be shells. And as long as people keep tossing their bottles, etc., in the ocean, there will be beach glass. And it's mine. MINE! Bwahahahahah!
Club Ginchy. I like it!
At 1:50 PM,
Anonymous said…
I have the bad habit of picking up shells, beach glass, sparkling stones, the like whenever I wander over beaches or other coastal places that have such attractive things. I'm sure my room would be more filled with things like that, but I so rarely make time to go visit the ocean beyond just riding coastal roads that I haven't yet cluttered up my room. None of my so-called friends share my addiction to beaches, for some reason.
If there were a 12-step program for this addiction, would you really...? I wouldn't :)
At 6:55 PM,
Dana Fredsti said…
Oh, Era...I wouldn't. You're right. I'd say, Hi, my name is Dana and I'm a shell-a-holic. And I'm gonna STAY taht way!
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