Today’s post brought to you by Prunella:

Dear patient reader,

I must apologize for my unannounced absence. It appears that I temporarily lost my effervescent self somewhere amidst the unpredictable aisles of life. Misplacement of that magnetic moxie was a misfortune, indeed.  Thankfully, I was able to locate that vivacious and sprightly spirit of mine, and masterful displays of cartwheeling exuberance are headed in your direction!

The day’s luminous sunlit sky could not be avoided, so I was forced to forgo my frugal finding and hike up the glorious acclivity that is Oakland’s Mountain View Cemetery. 

The sky proudly blushed as if exulting in some magnificent triumphal moment.  The carefully planted tulips at the entrance gate were swaying elegantly in their vibrant upside down red bubble skirts. The diminutive, grayed and crumbling headstones were hoarsely whispering the inhabitants of their graves,

"mother",

"father" ,

"our little one."

Only to be drowned out by the grand, elaborately designed mausoleums, with their over-sized angels, bronze gates, and colorful stained glass windows, proudly announcing their residents,

“ARCHITECT!”

“PHILANTHROPIST!”

“SHIPBUILDER!”

“RAILROAD MAGNET!”

“CHOCOLATIEEEEEER!”

And it was no wonder celebration was in the air!  For it appears that Mother and Father sin, that infamous, chaos-inducing couple, have apparently decided to retire to their rightful resting place underground:

As I skipped through the headstones, picking freshly laid flowers from the plastic vases for my dining table, I thought of the creative epitaph that may one day adorn my own gravesite.

 Here lieth Prunella Snickeree:

Brilliant bargain maven!
Cart-wheeler extraordinaire!
Protector of Bitty Bumble Beasts!

 Her heart was brilliant gold,
her purse a  tarnished copper,
she cavorted down the aisles
 a smile e’er upon her.  

n’er did she allow
a good sip of white sauv
go to waste

I wonder if :

and

gave much thought to such things. It appears I am in need of inspiration from experienced epitaph writers of the past. Also, because I am of the opinion that a cool sip of vino blanco opens up the mind for free-forward thinking, I shall partake in a large wee pour and  dance to heavenly inspiration of another kind: