think outside the box. Especially if you’re the cat. I had a strange request recently. One of my dearest dearests wants me to write her obituary hmmmmm. Sure. A gigs a gig, right? She doesn’t read my blogue so is naive to the fact I write in one huge paragraph with questionable grammar and material. In my birthday card envelope, she sent me notes on different little pieces of paper of things she wants included. There was no card, however, since she thought it would be inappropriate to include it with the obit notes. Never did get the card but it was one very fancy envelope. Unfortunately, I have obit writing experience which is the first thing you want to include on a resume. My dearest dearest is very particular about what she wants in it. Just the facts, ma’am. She hates reading that someone liked to cook or garden blah blah. I, on the other hand, work everyday to pad my final prose. Everything I’ve ever done better be included. Everything. You pay by the line and that one’s going to be a monster. Not ready to write my own yet, but will start gathering bits of handwritten notes when I think of something oh-so-fascinating. Or not. I am dragging on writing my dearest dearests Big O because I’m not sure I can get the tone right. When you write through grief, the deceased is so much more than words on paper. Which is what the gig entails now. My DD wants a copy to read, and for me to keep one for publication. I certainly will do the deed requested, but at the end I’m not sure if the whole thing will get a massive rewrite filled with guilt and hearts and flowers. And recipes! And jokes! Never, ever.