{"id":170,"date":"2005-09-21T17:38:49","date_gmt":"2005-09-21T21:38:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/snarl\/2005\/09\/21\/fashion-victim\/"},"modified":"2005-09-21T17:38:49","modified_gmt":"2005-09-21T21:38:49","slug":"fashion-victim","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/2005\/09\/21\/fashion-victim\/","title":{"rendered":"Fashion Victim"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Here goes the third consecutive blog entry chronicling my fashion-challenged self.<\/P>
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If you read my blog from the past few days, you’ll recall how I was absolutely clueless when it came to purchasing dress shirts. However, after two days and 5 different shops, I found some shirts that fit reasonably well. My other funeral preparations included buying some black dress shoes and getting a haircut. I thought I was all set.<\/P>
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But last night around 11PM I was laying out my clothes for the funeral when I realized I was missing one critical item. Suit? check. Dress shirt? check. Dress shoes? check. Tie? um…….<\/P>
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Yep, it appears that Matt inherited all of the ties when we broke up last year. Of course, I only discovered this after all local stores were closed the night before the funeral. Meanwhile, my cousin was picking me up at 7:30 AM (before stores open) to drive me to western Massachusetts. UGH. Fortunately, I was able to borrow a tie once I got to my brother’s place. <\/P>
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Remember how I talked about being white trash in my posting from Tuesday? Well, hopefully you believe me now.<\/P>
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Anyway, the funeral went really well. The weather was bright and sunny and Heather looked healthier than she had for months (ironic that she looked healthier when she was no longer living). Without the tubes and without the swelling, she looked like a perfectly normal and peaceful 3 year old girl. In the casket with her was her favorite blanket. <\/P>
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I’ve been to countless funerals in my life – all of them obviously sad. But there’s something about seeing a child in a casket. It just doesn’t look right. The casket was tiny – so compact that it only required three people to carry it to the hearse (two in front, one in back). In fact, it most likely could have been carried by two people, but it looked better to have the trio.<\/P>
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But then I embarrassed myself yet again. As we sat in our cars waiting for the body to be moved to the hearse, the funeral director motioned for us to turn on our headlights. My cousin, Karen, rented a car so we were both unfamiliar with where to find certain features. Well, as the driver, I twisted one lever thinking it was the headlights but it was, in fact, the windshield wipers. Flustered, I kept twisting it more and more but the damn things wouldn’t shut off. Oh no, on this gloriously sunny day, they just started operating faster and faster.<\/P>
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My cousin was leaning over trying to help but all I think she managed to do was to turn the cruise-control on and off over and over again. Eventually, we started laughing hysterically. Nothing would stop the wipers from going. Nothing.<\/P>
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And we still had no headlights. Soon enough, the tears of sadness turned to tears of hysteria. My sister-in-law’s mother was in the next car and kept glancing over. She surely must have thought we were the most insensitive pair on earth. Ultimately, I found out that the headlights function by pushing a button on the dash board (what’s up with that?). And we eventually got the windshild wipers to cease functioning (I’m not even sure how, to be honest).<\/P>
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Anyway, after the graveside prayers, we headed out to lunch and then drove back home. There’s one more memorial next week and I hope by then to have some ties of my own. And at least I’m more familiar with my parents car.<\/P><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Here goes the third consecutive blog entry chronicling my fashion-challenged self. If you read my blog from the past few days, you’ll recall how I was absolutely clueless when it came to purchasing dress shirts. However, after two days and 5 different shops, I found some shirts that fit reasonably well. My other funeral preparations […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":74,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-170","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/170","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/74"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=170"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/170\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=170"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=170"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=170"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}