My Beef and Noodles Day

You know those Facebook quizzes when you have to write "25 Things About Me?"  And then you list your favorite drinks (Diet Coke, Chocolate Milk, Beer), favorite cheese (Colby Jack), first concert (Tesla and Firehouse), favorite book (Little House on the Prairie) and questions like those?  Welp, whenever that questionnaire asks about my favorite meal, my answer is always the same.  Northwest Ohio funeral food.  If you are from Hank County, Ohio, you know what I am talking about.  The luncheon in the church cafeteria after a funeral. Coffee cake, shredded chicken sandwiches, deli platter with Nickles white bread and ham and summer sausage, deviled eggs, that red frothy Jello with pretzels in it, amongst other culinary delights.  Like beef and noodles if you're lucky.

Does it seem weird that I have such a fondness for funeral food?!  I don't know why, but it gives me a comforting, warm "Grandma Borstelman- made- crocheted -blanket- around -me" sort of feeling.  Maybe it's because I am always around friends and family at the luncheon and the saddest part of the ceremonies are over.  And I am thankful and grateful to spend time with my peeps here on earth and so happy to be around them.  Or I am just some sort of sick weirdo.

Anyhoosikins, in case you haven't heard, I have been battling this pretty pesky case of breast cancer for about 16 months now.  Much longer than I first anticipated.  And much more advanced than I understood.  All of this cancer razzmatazz has definitely changed me.  One way in which it altered me is that I think about dying at least five times per day.  Now don't get me wrong.  I don't think I am going to die anytime soon, but the nagging doubt in the back of my mind rears its ugly noggin a few times per day.  And it causes me to daydream about my potential funeral. Because heck, I could get eaten by Jaws at the beach this weekend if the cancer doesn't get me.

This is why I brought up my favorite meal.  Funeral food.  Because if a Great White chews me to bits, I want all of the aforementioned delicacies in the St. Paul Lutheran cafeteria and I want it to be packed.  Because even after death, I will still be an attention whore. Hot damn, folks better show up in droves.  And bring your kids so they can run willy nilly all through the hallways of St. Paul Lutheran and entertain the Triple Threat.  Let them on the playground and spin around the Witch's Wheel.  (Is that still there?!)  And if it is cold, open up the gym and let them roll around on those square scooter things and climb the rope.  All the way to the top. While the adults are eating coffee cake. And make sure everyone gazes at the 1988-89 Lutheran Girls Basketball Championship picture of me and my b-ball homies that is prominently displayed by the gymnasium.  But please don't judge me on my bangs.  I ran out of Rave 4 hairspray that day and they were kind of flat. I'm still upset about it.  Also, side note, I made zero points my entire two year basketball career.  But I loved socializing on the bench.

As for the ceremony, I want my favorite hymns sang.  Including hymn 311 (from the blue hymnal--not the new ones) the ever popular, "Lift High the Cross."  And of course hymn 518, "Onward Christian Soldiers."  Please let all of the former St. Paul Crusader boys break out their "air-machine-guns" during this diddy.  Because that brings me back to great memories of the boys in my class faux machine gunning down fellow classmates during that song.  You know.  Because it mentions war and soldiers.

Okay.  Enough talk about my hopefully-not-gonna-happen-anytime-soon-funeral.  Alright, one more thing.  I want people to go out and have some beers afterwards.  And tell funny stories about me.

But back to how this cruddy disease has changed me.  I now know that I used to be a polly-wolly-crappy friend.  Because people near and far have been so giving and generous to me and my family.  I know that I was not as thoughtful to friends and family going through hard times as they have been to me.  I may have short term memory loss, but I try to be more cognizant and empathetic of other peoples' struggles.  The cards and messages and monetary donations and meals and groceries and a gazillion other nice things have seriously kept me and my family upbeat and going.  Lemme tell ya.  This year would have sucked ratballs if I didn't get cards in the mail.  Or messages on my Facebook wall.  My #MCM (Man Crush Monday.  Mom, I know you didn't know what that meant) was always Louis.  My mailman.  Bringing me cancer presents.  So I completely understand now that a simple card can bring so much joy.

Alrighty.  This is getting a little lengthy.  I am just spewing out the thoughts in my head because I have insomnia and I am trying to make myself tired.  Another way in which cancer changed me.  I can't freaking sleep.

But will someone please bring beef and noodles to me while I am still alive and kicking?

Doesn't everyone go searching for their Lutheran Hymnal at 1 in the morning?  Or is it just me and Snoop Dogg?