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Sep. 19th, 2007 08:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolariFriday, September 14th
I woke up with a dilemma. I had something put together for both days that was androgynous...nothing I don't usually wear to work, but something that doesn't scream "folks, I'm changing my sex." The problem became my D cup breasts. Nothing I had would tone them down enough that they wouldn't...::cough::...steal the show.
After searching around and thinking of alternatives, I remembered my old turqoise spandex top. Back in the day, that bra held my breast forms before I grew my own. Now I'd gained enough weight, and the spandex was taut enough that it pressed them down fairly decently. They were still there - but not nearly as noticable.
Lytle is about a 2 hour drive from San Antonio. I decided before I'd leave, to put oil in the truck. I was in a rush, had a nice shirt on, so I decided to ignore checking the dipstick and tossed in a couple of quarts. I also checked the water level and brake fluid. The truck needs to get me to Seattle - it's about time I babied it.
The drive to Lytle was pretty melancholy. I hadn't been out in the area on my own in many many years - and it never really changes. The area on the way down still looks like it did in 1980. I never ealize how much I missed seeing those little towns and fields and landmarks. I dunno if I'll ever see them again now that grandma isn't down there anymore.
I got to the funeral home early - no one but my parents had shown up. Dad gave me a once over (I'm guessing to make sure I hadn't "embarrassed" him by showing up in a Las Vegas Showgirl outfit), and then I saw her.
She didn't look like my granmother. More like some kind of manniquin that sorta resembled her. It was her, though, resting comfortable in her casket, ready for the trip into the great beyond. Mom, as usual for these things, had done my grandmothers hair and makeup herself.
Slowly over the evening, more and more family and friends showed up. Unlike my mother's family which get together if someone breaks a nail, my dad's side doesn't get together hardly at all. Cousins I last saw as fifth graders now had kids of their own, hair was greyer, people were craggier.
All the funerals I'd been to before this one were for my mother's side of the family. They are not just Roman Catholic, but Mexican Roman Catholic. Viweings were done at home, rosaries went on for several days, masses were held, internment rituals and all that. Very sombre, very sad affairs.
This was anything but. As more people came in, more people started talking, more people started seeing old friends, and by the end of the night - the whole funeraql home was downright rowdy. It was definately a different feel than it was. But more on that later.
Around 8PM, my sister and I decided we'd had enough merriment (?!) and that we were heading home. Leaving the funeral home, I noticed the pickup was creating a HUGE cloud of smoke everytime I took off from a stop. I drove home worried that the truck was finally showing it's own age, and that it wasn't going to make the end of the night, much less the end of the Seattle trip.
After getting home and eating really bad Chinese food, we settled down for the night. My cousin Scott showed up to crash at our place for tomorrow. When we were much younger, we were very close with him and his brother...we had a nice long talk, I came out to him, and he seemed to be okay with it. One down, six hundred million to go.
I went to bed late, got only a few hours of sleep.
I woke up with a dilemma. I had something put together for both days that was androgynous...nothing I don't usually wear to work, but something that doesn't scream "folks, I'm changing my sex." The problem became my D cup breasts. Nothing I had would tone them down enough that they wouldn't...::cough::...steal the show.
After searching around and thinking of alternatives, I remembered my old turqoise spandex top. Back in the day, that bra held my breast forms before I grew my own. Now I'd gained enough weight, and the spandex was taut enough that it pressed them down fairly decently. They were still there - but not nearly as noticable.
Lytle is about a 2 hour drive from San Antonio. I decided before I'd leave, to put oil in the truck. I was in a rush, had a nice shirt on, so I decided to ignore checking the dipstick and tossed in a couple of quarts. I also checked the water level and brake fluid. The truck needs to get me to Seattle - it's about time I babied it.
The drive to Lytle was pretty melancholy. I hadn't been out in the area on my own in many many years - and it never really changes. The area on the way down still looks like it did in 1980. I never ealize how much I missed seeing those little towns and fields and landmarks. I dunno if I'll ever see them again now that grandma isn't down there anymore.
I got to the funeral home early - no one but my parents had shown up. Dad gave me a once over (I'm guessing to make sure I hadn't "embarrassed" him by showing up in a Las Vegas Showgirl outfit), and then I saw her.
She didn't look like my granmother. More like some kind of manniquin that sorta resembled her. It was her, though, resting comfortable in her casket, ready for the trip into the great beyond. Mom, as usual for these things, had done my grandmothers hair and makeup herself.
Slowly over the evening, more and more family and friends showed up. Unlike my mother's family which get together if someone breaks a nail, my dad's side doesn't get together hardly at all. Cousins I last saw as fifth graders now had kids of their own, hair was greyer, people were craggier.
All the funerals I'd been to before this one were for my mother's side of the family. They are not just Roman Catholic, but Mexican Roman Catholic. Viweings were done at home, rosaries went on for several days, masses were held, internment rituals and all that. Very sombre, very sad affairs.
This was anything but. As more people came in, more people started talking, more people started seeing old friends, and by the end of the night - the whole funeraql home was downright rowdy. It was definately a different feel than it was. But more on that later.
Around 8PM, my sister and I decided we'd had enough merriment (?!) and that we were heading home. Leaving the funeral home, I noticed the pickup was creating a HUGE cloud of smoke everytime I took off from a stop. I drove home worried that the truck was finally showing it's own age, and that it wasn't going to make the end of the night, much less the end of the Seattle trip.
After getting home and eating really bad Chinese food, we settled down for the night. My cousin Scott showed up to crash at our place for tomorrow. When we were much younger, we were very close with him and his brother...we had a nice long talk, I came out to him, and he seemed to be okay with it. One down, six hundred million to go.
I went to bed late, got only a few hours of sleep.
