Remember Me Tall

Among the many steps into adulthood that I must take is the uncomfortable action of creating a will.  I guess its time.  It's always time, isn't it?  It is always the perfect time to make a will, just like it is always the perfect time to break-up with a married man or start those exercise videos or that watercolor class.  All choices, I recently read, are made from either faith or fear.  Let's see:  I choose to sort the stacks of Cd's in our apartment rather than create a will out of . . . ?  

Yet, I am married now, and the thought of my husband having to make difficult decisions without my advice fills me with more fear than faith.  I mean no offense, only that I think about these things, and he doesn't, and when I bring them up, I have little faith that he will remember the conversation at all.  Especially if I am dead.

I'd like to just leave a little list for him that reminds him not to dress me in anything floral and that he should choose the absolute cheapest forms of burial.  (I'm not going to care, I'm going to be dead, so if you would rather spend the casket budget on smoked gouda and soppressata for the little gathering afterward, you totally have my blessing.)  However, he would not remember the list.  He would not remember the conversation about the list.  I could come back from the dead while he was sleeping, sit on his stomach and whisper "the list is in my underwear drawer" over and over and he would wake up, rub his eyes and say "I had the weirdest dream about underwater hot dog stands."

Memory is a completely individual trait, like fingerprints and metabolisms.  I like to think I have an excellent memory, but that's just because I can't remember the things that I've forgotten.  (Humbling notion, isn't it?)  That said, it has become clear that between my husband and me, I tend to remember certain things better than he does.  For instance, I remember names of people and places and at which places we met which people.  And what those people were wearing.  And what we were wearing.  And I remember what conversations we have, and the number of times the conversation is subsequently repeated.  And what we are wearing each time said conversation is addressed.  Yeah, okay, I have the better memory.  (Unless the topic has anything to do with The Dallas Cowboys or The Crimson Tide.  He's got that covered.)

Do you think Facebook would hold any weight as official documentation?  I hope not.  I recently posted that New York smells more like pee in the summer than in the other months.  While I stand by this observation, I do not wish to be remembered by such musings.  I'd like to be remembered as sharp-witted, funny, generous, fair-minded, fun-loving, tall, with perfect pitch . . . (it doesn't have to be accurate; it's memory) and I- would-like-someone-to-please-remember-the-makeshift-will-I-left-in-my-underwear-drawer.

vino & the bean was a little more like "beer & the bean" this week.  'tbd' in brooklyn had our favorite patio bar so far.  Brouwerij Lane is our favorite beer shop.  Great selection and they fill growlers to go.