Of all the holidays, Easter is at the bottom of the food chain for me. Even when I was a regular church goer, I disliked it. For starters. I don't like candy. Make me eat a jelly bean and I'll be sick for hours. Maybe it's all those pastels that creep me out. Maybe it was trying each year to wear something fluffy and spring-like when there was still snow on the ground. Maybe it was Easter dinner - again with the pastels and a serious lack of anything cheesy, garlicky, or fried. I'm a real trooper for the kids, but meh, I could live without it.
This year only the 9-year-old tinky-winky has her head in the game. So I'm trying something new. I'm sending her on a hunt through the house, complete with decorated clues, to find their Easter baskets. Which in reality are brown paper lunch bags with curly ribbon stapled to them. And rather nontraditional Easter gifts inside: mascara for the teens, cheap DVD's, lip smackers for the Tinkster, and the required amount of chocolate and gum.
I've replaced Easter dinner with brunch, including a made-ahead pan of creme brulee french toast. If it's a hit I'll post the recipe.
Where is Jesus in all this? He isn't frankly. I think he'd be appalled to see us getting all dressed up and cutting into the coca-cola marinated ham while the kids slipped into diabetic comas. I think he's got better taste, and certainly a bit more decorum.
