Sunday, March 27, 2016

Happy Easter

Happy Easter! Or Ostara! Or whatever you do on this day. I'm doing nothing. In fact, I may need to rush to the market before it closes early to buy something for dinner as there is nothing here! All the kids are back in Fresno letting their little ones enjoy the bunny's bounty. I'm sitting here at home in the California coastal cold, which is like shorts and flip-flop weather for those of you living up in Michigan, feeling a little joyful not to be in the hub-bub of the festivities' preparation. For, like, the first or second time in my adult life. It's liberating. My friend Shannon gave me a dozen of her chickens' beautiful pale blue-grey eggs, and I'm going to boil half of them and decorate them for the wee one's bounty basket. Instead of gobs of candy, plastic toys, and the 1-millionth stuffed toy to add to the collection in her basket, her mom is putting in skincare. There is a big hollow chocolate bunny, because you gotta. But everything else is bath time, after bath, and skincare goodness. Four bath bombs from Lush, one from Babylon Soap Co. in Morro Bay, lotions and shower gel from Bath and Body Works, a big bar of cherry vanilla soap from Babylon, a beautiful blood orange and vanilla body lotion from Babylon, and some sparkle infused aloe gel from Heart's Desire Soap Co. in San Luis Obispo. For the wee-er one, she got a natural lavender infused body oil for bedtime, and a tiny pink bunny. The wee ones' mother is trying hard to create holidays that aren't about eating one's weight in sugar, and are instead about extending the fun with things the kids truly love.

Bergamot & Rose Ostara marshmallows 2012


I remember Easters past as a time of extreme activity and great anticipation. We would get new dresses, usually the first new clothing we'd get between the yearly mid-summer school clothes shopping, and new shoes. We'd dress up and climb into the car with the Easter baskets our godmother gave us, and then we'd drive 45 winding minutes into the hills to an old cabin on the edge of a creek and an old oak forest where we'd be greeted by all of our cousins, aunts, uncles, and our grandparents. The main room of the three-room cabin would be decked out for the holidays with two picnic tables set end-to-end literally groaning under the weight of the food that was brought or prepared there. Pies, bunny-shaped carrot cakes, ham, turkey, lamb, fresh green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and lots of fresh spring vegetables. It was like Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled into one with everyone exchanging baskets, and more food in the room than most people eat in a month. I remember choking on dry boiled eggs, and drinking lots of sweet tea and Dr. Pepper. I remember eating too many chocolate malted eggs and getting sick on the floor of the cabin's tiny kitchen. I remember spoiling my new dress running through the briars and muddying my shoes slipping into the creek. I remember wasp stings and skinned knees and joyously smiling into the faces of people who are now long dead.

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