The Cob and Log Hampster Wheel

I’m sitting on some pretty big processing sessions regarding the death of my grandmother. This would be Jean Alexia Rudometkin Tolmasoff, the Russian one whose family was introduced to you a few blogs ago. I could start to tell some stories soon. The 10 hour wake with Russian prayers and chanting and the horrid violations of Molokan doctrine that I unknowingly committed sitting a mere 6 inches from my grandmother’s casket. Wearing long white skirts, petticoats, aprons, head coverings, pantyhose, heels (plus Calvin Klein BRIEFS underneath it all, just to assert my Ivy-ness in the midst of such 19th century ridiculousness), only to later turn around at the cemetery to be face to face with a 40 year old Russian woman wearing a tube top and stilletto boots. About my austic cousin who pulled my hair. About the church elder who was ostensibly going to speak about my grandmother, but instead got up and railed against heathers, sinners and ninosh (non-Molokan, so that includes me), and then made a pitch for the new translation of the Molokan Book of Life and Spirit.  My cousins and I in a bizarre moment in the casket room with the salesman pointing out that the very casket we were looking at was purchased by Notorious B.I.G. aka (air quotes) Biggie Smalls. Somehow this same casket prompted my autistic cousin to tell us that he has photos of the motel room in which John Candy died (to which my other cousin replied that John Kennedy did not die in a hotel room but maybe Robert Kennedy did), and then I walked outside into the hallway to eat more chocolate mint patties from the big glass bowl in the funeral director’s office but ran smack into a woman who’s trying to set me up  with her (Molokan) grandson who also "goes to college in Boston."  I smiled blandly at her until my mom walked by, squeezed my elbow until I thought I would fall over and intoned to me to play along. I played along well, until we were able to break our fast by going to Olive Garden on Firestone Blvd.   I promptly got wasted hitting on our waitress (who is trying out for American Idol), only to have my mom inform me that she already asked her and she’s not a lesbian, but then returning to the conversation at the table and fielding questions from several women who want to marry me off to nice Russian boys.

There is so much more to tell you, and when we hang out in person, I’ll tell you about it, but I’m completely overwhelmed right now, if only because I can’t beleive that I’ll never go to another Molokan service ever again in my life.      Perhaps I should tattoo ninosh on my wrist.

Oh yeah, and it’s Day 28+and then some, and i’m convinced that I’m pregnant by divine intervention but also that I am completely 10000% batshit. But if you could have seen this funeral, you would be amazed at what I just went through. I’m not being wierd, I’m just totally being Ivy and telling you: man, humans are inescapably and inexoricably bizarre.

This entry was posted on 週五, 五月 12th, 2006 at 9:51 下午 and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.