Sunday evening in Valpairaiso, or Valpariso, or Valparaiso, or however it’s spelled. People down here probably call it “Valpo” for a reason. No one can fucking spell it.

The visitation for Wanda Horak, previously known here as Baba, or as Mathias’ great grandmother, or as 12.5% of our little one, is still in progress. We had to leave early due to Mathias’ schedule’s tendency to be inflexible for funerals, travel or acts of nature. We’re at Lisa’s cousin Ed’s place now, with Mathias seemingly cooing along to the lullaby CD we’re playing for him.

I’ve said this before, but our baby is awesome. He gets more so by the day. Unlike me, he may still have the chance to remember one of his great grandparents. We’ll have to check back on that in a few years.

Today has been kind of weird. That in itself is not surprising, as funerals are probably only second to weddings in bringing out emotional weirdness in people. (Lisa and I will both have to have funerals some day, I suppose, but we skipped the wedding part for a number of reasons.) The strange thing for me is there was one part of the trip I kind of expected drama from, and another that I didn’t, and for all practical purposes the reality has proven to be the reverse of the expectation. (No details here, move along.) Everyone is fine, but I’m feeling a bit off as a result.

Tomorrow’s the big day, the Polish Catholic funeral a couple of people have said may last well over an hour and a half. It’ll be followed by a trip to the cemetery, a burial, and a late lunch. I’ve never been to a funeral where we actually watched the interment before. It should be… weird.

Well, it’s time to clean up to head off to what’s been dubbed Thanksgiving Part II. Most of us thought we were getting pizza tonight, but it looks like something a bit more formal is in order. More later.