The house is a bustle of movement as we prepare for the funeral. Yesterday the front room was awash with pieces of green paper and photos.

Green was his favourite colour.

I'm making a presentation for the wake, kind of like an old-school powerpoint presentation--you know, mounted on cardboard--with photos of Pop and the family. I spent the day printing, cropping (thank goodness for guillotines! I can't cut in a straight line to save myself), laminating and gluing the photos. I have quite a few photos that my cousin scanned some time ago. As I was looking through them I couldn't help but think his brother was really hot.

I hate the word 'eulogy'.

My cousin and I have been asked to speak at the funeral. At first I didn't know if I wanted to or not simply because I didn't know what to say. I figured it was best to say yes and then pike out than to say no and regret it. Last night, in a fit of inspiration and insomnia, I wrote most of what I'm going to say.

I have to wash my black shirt.

I made a mock-up of the little booklet for the funeral yesterday. Dad wanted psalm 23 to have the old-school -eth and -est language. It sounds really nice that way. I had copied it out of my (more modern) bible so we went through and changed the verbs to be ye-olde-english style. Sister came in with a King James version and insisted I change the punctuation to suit. I did. It made absolutely no sense: there were colons in place of semi-colons, full-stops in place of commas. She argued that you cannot go around changing the punctuation of the bible just because it doesn't make sense. The editor in me disagreed. Although I usually steer well clear of arguments with Sister, this one was important. I wasn't going to have Pop's funeral bookletty thing not making sense.

I won.