comebacks, resurrections, and general hoodwinkery

Life being the tricky thing it is, decides once again to beguile me. Just as I feel the need to reinvigorate this blog, my MacBook so decides it's a good day to try out a Potter-esque obliviate spell on any input-able text boxes. I stand by my assertion that Apple products are best showcased in white, even if I am borrowing the black MacBook we have here at home. [I'm sorry, but iPods, iPhones, MacBooks, and the like should all be in gleaming Apple white. This matte black is suited MAC products, which is probably why I'm confused.] I've never been one with much motivation, so this is a pernicious attempt on the part of technology to silence my ramblings.

That being noted, I'm back. With my best intentions to keep up appearances. Imbued with a new sense of hope for the world (thank you, 2011 Reading Challenge on Goodreads!), my digressive sermons have returned. And returned in a better apartment with stunning views, which in turn create great spaces to read - and review books like Stiff.

Reminder: I need a pedicure. Forget clean underwear in case I die, my toes need to look good.

Squeamishness be damned, indeed. While I generally try and avoid the topics of death and cadavers, Stiff certainly gets beyond the stigma and gives the nitty gritty that we're all inherently curious about. Death is one of the few guarantees we all share, a great equalizer that is unavoidable. While a few of us probably gave thought to postmortem plans during a Six Feet Under marathon, contacting locally family owned funeral parlors and hastily filling out pre-needs, I'd venture to say the majority of us haven't seriously considered death-long plans (which really turn out to be longer-lasting than any life-long plans we may pride ourselves on). Hell, I'm guilty of not even checking the organ donor box (can't say I recall ever seeing it on any driver's license application, but it's a failure of my own for not asking). 

Roach thoroughly investigates all manners of cadaverdom, in a way that seems not like a presentation of options that should be given by Michael C Hall, but more so like a well-rounded 300 page answer to a child's query of "What happens to us when we die?" And have no doubt - I mean that in a very good way. 

Having also read Spook, I already have a fondness for Mary Roach, who has a voice that both smartly and graciously deals with the toughest of topics. That being said, I'm still not sure what to do with myself when I die... If you're one of the few who have heard my grand plans for a green burial on a preserve in California, don't fret. It appears that I have new options to be an eco-friendly cadaver! Freeze-dried Brittany fertilizer wouldn't be so bad, but it does mean someone's got to stick around and water me from time to time. Here's to hoping I can finally grow some Mr. Stripey tomatoes...