(no subject)

Thursday: Had the vigil and all that associated stuff. Afterwards, one of Dad's best friends came up to me and said "Man, he looks good. I keep thinking he's going to sit up and go 'Hah! Fooled you.'" And then he turned seventeen shades of red and apologized profusely and said that was probably a very inappropriate thing to have said. I assured him that no, it was perfectly appropriate, and exactly the kind of shit he would have pulled if he could have.

Yesterday: Had the graveside thing, complete with honor guard from the Army. They're putting Dad on a hill, next to one of the ponds, which is great because he always wanted a pond in the backyard but never really got around to doing that. Sat around firepit with Mom and Stepmom at Mom's house after everyone else went home and laughed a lot.

Tonight: I just got home. Why have I just now gotten home? Me, Stepmom, Cousin and her husband, Cousin's Friend and her husband, and the aforementioned friend and his wife all went to do the Saturday Mexican Food thing... and then me, Stepmom, Cousin, and her husband all went and got tattooed in Dad's honor. We all got the same thing--a peace pipe, because he made them. I tried to take a picture of mine, but I couldn't keep the damn thing in focus because it's way the fuck down on my left calf, so I'll have to have someone else hold the camera. And, uh, folks? This is my fifth tattoo, and I do NOT remember the other four motherfuckers hurting as much as this one did. Not even the one on the right calf in the same damn place. I don't even remember having to make faces when they did the ones on my damn back. Maybe it's because I have less fat and more muscle underneath there than I did then, but FUCKING HELL OW.