Coupla Things

Just saw a joke—two people connect on a dating site. The woman asks the dude how old he is. He replies that he’s 13.787 ± 0.02 billion years old. What the fuck, she asks. He replies:

According to the Law of Conservation of Mass, matter can’t be created or destroyed, Therefore, I am as old as the universe—13.787 ± .020  billion years old.

The joke goes on, referencing Newton’s law of gravitation and some quantum physics stuff. I, however, was stuck on the age of the universe. 13.8 billion years old, eh? That’s a metric fuckton of candles to put on a birthday cake. Even if you get those short, skinny, cheap ones they sell at Stop and Shop, that’s gonna make quite the dent in the old wallet. AND, what do you light 13.8 billion little candles with—a flamethrower? I bet that’d totally ruin the frosting.  (Won't anyone please think of the poor frosting flowers?!) 

Also…cake? Did someone say CAKE?! 

Mmmmm, cake.

Also, if I was 40 or more years younger this kind of first date chit chat would, like totally, *ahem* light my candles. It's true, I find smart science talk sexy as all hell.
~~~
I read this poem yesterday, written by one of my absolute favorites, Sherman Alexie.

Sister Song, Brother Song

Dear sisters, dear brothers,
we have more years behind us
than we have ahead. Let's
not pretend. One of us will
soon be the last sibling left.

One of us will tend the graves
of the others. Dear sisters,
dear brothers, our late father
planted trees in the family
frontyard that are younger

than us. Those trees will keep
growing as we, one by one,
go away. So let's gather now
and pray together for the sibling
who'll pray alone on their last day.

I have three siblings. One is two years older, one four years younger and one nine years younger. Of us, I fully expect I’ll be the first one to exit stage left (given my ferocious and nasty-ass Nf2). This makes me the lucky one. I won’t be stuck grieving or struggling with confused, conflicted emotions. I’m selfish like that.

I’m not the prayer and burial type. I'm not gonna leave Ten, Jen and Oni with a shitton of bills and cleanup. I’m much more the raise a toast (or a piece of toast—avocado on top, thank you) and fling my ashes into the sea sort. Maybe dig a hole, pour my powdery remains in and plant an oak or a hemlock on top?

Afterwards, I want my loved ones to have a good party. Maybe have a contest—see who can come up with the most embarrassing and/or awkward thing I’ve ever done. Mind you, there’s a near infinite selection from which to choose.

At least two out of three of my siblings are into the traditional prayer, casket, headstone thing. Since I won't be here, their spouses and/or children can make the arrangements.

Also, yes, I like to plan ahead. Obviously.

We’re all the unreliable narrators of our lives, so let’s celebrate the unreliable.
~ Sherman Alexie