My mother is an interesting person. When her mother died, and her family started distributing the ashes, at first my mother didn't want her "share" of my grandma. Then she thought about it and decided she did want a little ziplock baggie full of parent, and when she was handed the catalog of possible urns, she instead selected a starfish made of cement.

Just to make the most of her new acquisition, she started keeping the starfish readily available for prop comedy. Every girl I ever brought over from that day forward was greeted at the door by my mom with the phrase "Welcome! Come on into the other room and meet grandma! Don't worry, she doesn't say much."

She even made a place at Christmas dinner for the starfish one year. If any of you ever wonder where I get my "dedication to a joke", look no further than the eccentric who birthed me.

But don't you take that "eccentric" the wrong way, I actually admire my mother's approach to grieving. By taking the remains and personifying them into a sculpture of a sea-creature, she robbed a depressing situation of some of it's sadness, and found a way to talk to absolutely anyone about a very gloomy subject in a way where even the most serious person couldn't help but crack a smile.

I love my mother, and in honor of her ideas, I've decided that when she dies I'm going to pay to have her entire body stuffed by the finest taxidermist I can find. She will then spend eternity in the foyer of whatever house I'm living in. She'll be frozen forever on her favorite couch with a big smile on her face, making the sign-language for "I love you" with her left hand, and flipping off whoever enters with the right.

"Welcome! Come on in, you can leave your coat with ma here, she's doesn't mind holding it. What? Oh I know! I paid extra for the eyes that follow you around the room!"

I think the biggest hurdle to my plan is getting my step-father to sign off on it. While I would truly mean this as a heart-felt memorial, I don't think this kind of thing is "pope-sanctioned"...