New Territory

Mike turns 49 in December.  I think we may have crossed a threshold with mailing lists.  Well, not we (yet), but Mike has definitely crossed the line.  Consider the best piece of junk mail we received today:

Most of our junk mail these days comes from colleges.  I just opened it because  I was bored – I didn’t really look at it.  “Plan  to Live” indeed.

That’s right.  We’re invited (along with two of our closest friends) to eat a free meal and plan Mike’s funeral.  I know the economy is bad, but honestly? They’re hitting on the soon-to-be-49 crowd?  This was a seriously expensive mass mailing.  The longer it sat on the kitchen counter, the funnier it seemed to me, Andy, Ian and Tim.  Poor, Mike.  By the time he came home we were just dying to see his reaction.

Being old, like Mike, he couldn’t see what he was looking at initially without his glasses.  He asked just holding the envelope “Who’s getting married?”  “Did someone have a baby?”  and then he put his glasses on.  His reaction was the same as mine when I first saw the thing.  Shock. Awe. Horror. And . . . then, because he’s the man I love, he laughed and laughed and laughed.  Yes . . . we’re going to die.  Yes . .  . we get few dinners out on our own.  Yes . . . better to eat Mac and Cheese at home than this.  

Free tickets if anyone can use them.  

I cannot even imagine what our future “old people” mail holds.  Rest assured, I’ll let you know.  

3 thoughts on “New Territory

  1. Pass it on to your parents.

    I love knowing that my parents have their entire funeral planned, payed for and even take out their obituaries and update them every year or so. We won't have to write them when we are sad, won't have to decide if they would want a rosary (we are Catholic and they don't), don't have to pick out a casket, etc. We can just grieve.

    We will probably do the same thing but I don't know at 49. Probably in our 50s we will look into it. We have to assume we are going to live long and prosper because we have a 6 year old to get through college. We can't die on him.

  2. Whoa, we've not gotten one of those, and we've passed the threshold. Now I'm hurt — where did our tickets go?

    Not that it would matter — RIck seems to think being stuffed in a plastic bag and dumped in the woods is about as fancy as these things should get. I've tried to point out the flaws of the plan — the plastic not being biodegradable, so after the wild animals rip it open it's going to hang around the woods for years — but it's taking awhile to work the kinks out and come up with a viable plan. Overall, probably not ready to start discussing our thoughts with professional funeral planners.

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