Even my underwear was black (although I didn't plan it that way).

On Friday morning, we found out that Froggy's employee had succumbed to his cancer. (My employee's surgery last month was successful, and he started chemotherapy last week, so we expect to have him around a little while longer.) So, on Sunday afternoon, I attended his funeral. Knowing the general dress code of The Noog, I figured I wouldn't need a tie. I wore my "casual dressy" clothes (you know, the type I'd wear to impress a date, if I ever had a date), mixed and matched so that everything was black. I needn't have worried. Several people there weren't in black (including the deceased's children). No one was in jeans, though, so that's something.

Afterward, I went home and hung my Christmas lights. After all, nothing says "joyous celebration" like a funeral.

This, of course, begs the question, "So, Brain, what are we doing next Sunday at 2 p.m.?" The answer is, "The same thing we do every Sunday at 2 p.m., Pinky: go to a memorial service."

This time, it will be for the neighbor who died of cancer, the day after the employee. Egad, I hope this is the last one for a while.