So, now that I’ve got y’all over here, I guess I need to say something interesting. Of course, why deviate from the norm just because I’m in a new location?
I’m all about living up to your expectations of random content.
P and Caroline celebrated Good Friday by heading to the ranch to do some fishing. With this move, he singlehandedly trumped all my big Spring Break activities, including the trip to Target and the $1.00 popcorn.
He even bought minnows to use as bait. Seriously, I can’t compete with the minnows.
And I certainly can’t compete with this.
Those huge catfish? Caroline caught those.
Not only did she catch them, but she also touched them. With her hands. With her little baby hands that used to smell like a combination of lavender and Cheerios all the time.
Friday night she went to spend the night with Mimi and Bops and they brought her home Saturday morning after a stop at Shipley’s Donuts.
She brought me one. Slightly used.
Tasty.
She’d been home exactly five seconds before she begged to start dyeing Easter eggs. Did I spell dyeing right? It doesn’t look right but, frankly, I’m just barely coming out of my baked french toast hangover and haven’t the strength to look it up in a dictionary.
So, I boiled us some eggs and took the whole dyeing operation outside because I know the limits of my sanity and Easter egg dye in my house clearly exceeds those limits. Especially when the chief egg dyer uses a technique called PLOPPING THE EGGS right into a full cup of vinegar, dye and water.
And look what kind of egg dye we bought.
Disney. Those folks have got themselves quite the marketing department.
Don’t think they wouldn’t emblazon DISNEY PRINCESSES right across the Easter Bunny’s rear end if given half a chance. Or try to incorporate Snow White and Sleeping Beauty into the Resurrection Story if they weren’t afraid of going to hell.
On Saturday night, P fried Caroline’s catfish for dinner and she was so proud. Then it was time for bed and we put out carrots for the Easter Bunny. She asked me if the Easter Bunny came down the chimney and I just mumbled something under my breath.
I realize that Santa is also make believe, but the Easter Bunny just seems like a ridiculous concept. I mean, really? A huge bunny that carries around eggs for kids? That doesn’t even make good sense.
Clearly, an elderly gentleman who lives with elves and travels with reindeer is much more realistic.
Then I had to watch the Aggies lose a heartbreaker to UCLA. It was so close. I could see us in the Final Four. With Duke out of the tournament, we’d have such a great shot. But, alas, ten minutes of no offensive production doesn’t really win games and bad calls by refs don’t help either. Boomama instant messaged me (is that how you say it? IM’d me? Ichatted me?) when there were about five minutes left in the game and offered to start vacuuming because that strategy has helped Mississippi State win some games.
A friend who offers to vacuum in your NCAA tournament time of need is a friend indeed.
You can embroider that on a pillow if you’d like.
Caroline woke up bright and early on Sunday morning to see if the Easter Bunny had made it to our house. Sure enough, there were eggs to hunt and candy to eat.
We got dressed for church and even made it on time which, in and of itself, was some sort of Easter miracle.
Mimi, Bops, my sister and her family all came over for Easter brunch. We put a serious dent in the baked french toast and the sausage and egg breakfast casserole and then watched Caroline and Sarah hunt for Easter eggs.
And this is where I would love to wrap this up all neatly with a big Easter bow but, like I said, the baked french toast combined with the Cadbury Egg chaser isn’t for amateurs. I’m going to need to really sleep this off before I’m able to function at full capacity again.
So, I’ll just end with this.
Easter. It was good.