Jo In An Odd Pose. (Patreon)

I dunno, I used reference on this and am not sure what to think.  Adding color didn't help.  I was also unsure of my choices there.  Hot pink pants are a bit much.  To my eye it works, but to others?  

Unrelated story: (possibly upsetting, so feel free to skip this bit.) my great grandmother liked hot pink.  She wore hot pink cowboy boots and all manner of other things.  When she was little her family didn't really do anything to Christmas and that made her very unhappy, so she went crazy with her kids on Xmas.  That tradition came down to my grandmother and was maintained throughout her life.  So we had the most ridiculous Xmases and I didn't realize until I was 8 or 9 that other people didn't do all the things we did.  Those "traditions" essentially ended with her.  I have no children, and am unlikely to, so all of that basically ended for me with her death.  

Great grandma also had a room of creepy dolls.  Like, and entire room full of just creepy dolls lined up along the walls like a horror movie.  Which was also the guest room. I'm not exactly sure what happened to them after she died, but I feel like on some level she's where my family gets our tendency to obsessively collect various things.  Also depression and bipolar disorder, but I'm sure it's a package deal.  

She was also the first family member I ever saw dead.  I didn't go to her funeral, but I did view her at the funeral home.  Mom says that it's impossible that I saw the place where they patched up the bullet hole, but I've always thought I could clearly see where it was in my memory. 

We hit a bird with the car on the way there that day.  It was stuck in the bumper but didn't die.  It just broke its neck.  Isn't that odd?  At the time it seemed like an omen to me.  I don't know what the adults did with it.  My guess is they put it out of its misery, but I never found out.  Now, of course, I'm the only person who remembers that it happened.

The funeral home was a literal home.  The family area was a flight of stairs away from the viewing room.  I remember being able to see the kids watching TV from the landing a scant 30 feet from the corpse of my great grandmother.  It was just another day for them and we were just another group of sad people filtering in and out of their house.  

Being the child of a mortician must give you a very different perspective on death.  

I probably shouldn't have written any of this down.  Maybe I'll circle back up and put a warning on this part...