Jewish? Christian? Everybody likes a nice hard-boiled egg! Sabrina uncovers the truth behind nut allergies.
First of all, let me just begin by stating the obvious. This cheese is too sharp. I mean, I guess it did say that it would be “sharp” on the deli label, but I mean, this is like razor-blade sharp. This is Ginsu-knife sharp. This cheese is a goddamn diamond, and we all know it.
Okay, good. Now we can relax for a minute and enjoy the view. I just didn’t want everybody sitting here, pretending to read my blog, but really thinking about how painfully sharp this cheese is. I know it. You know it. The man who sold it to us knew it, but didn’t say anything. Not that he needed to. He’s not responsible for it. He didn’t make it.
That’s right, Ireland. We’re all looking at you.
Now then, let’s just talk about what else is happening this week. Two major holidays are going down, and I don’t have any plans.
Today, I find myself with a massive case of Passover envy. If anyone is having a seder in Arkansas tonight, please contact me ASAP. Yes, I said “Arkansas.” I can tell you what brands of Quinoa are kosher. Anyone? Hello? I will do a Christopher Walken impersonation when it’s my turn to read the Haggadah. I will make jokes like, “Where’s Morgan Freeman? It looks like we’re about to film The Lambshank Redemption up in this joint!” Please? No one loves plagues the way that I do! We can watch The Ten Commandments together, and I’ll start riffing when the burning bush comes out. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?? I’LL BRING THE PARSLEY! TRUST ME, I KNOW WHAT BITTER IS!!!
Sigh. There are no Jewish people in Arkansas, are there?
Okay. Fine. I still have Easter, you know. I can…um, well, I mean…I can build a giant Jesus and candy mountain, right? I can, um…dip hard-boiled eggs in different colors of dye and then, um..eat them! OH YEAH! Catch that Easter Fever! I can hide my husband’s keys and wallet in the yard and make a fun game out of watching him “hunt” for them. I mean, we usually just call that “Tuesday,” but I could also wear a fancy hat or something this time.
See, the problem with Easter is that you either need to have kids, or you need to believe in the J-Bird. Or ham. I think you could probably get by with a healthy appetite for ham. Since the cheese incident, I have been reflecting back on Easters past and trying to rediscover what was beautiful and meaningful to me about them, and…actually, that’s a big fat lie. I’ve been trying to think about what was funny about them, because I needed to write a blog.
So, I think the key thing about Easter and my childhood is this: Easter kind of worked to teach me lessons about things; I’m just not sure they were the right lessons.
For example: when I was a little kid, I had this one friend who wouldn’t even bother looking for eggs at Easter egg hunts. He would just follow the other kids around, and when they put their baskets down to hunt for an egg in a bush or a tree or something, he would go over and take some of the eggs out of their baskets and put them in his. He won every egg hunt. He was never caught or punished.
Wrap a five-year old mind around that reality, mister. Kids don’t second-guess impulses. “Ethics?” you say? Good luck with that.
Or this: my grandparents would put spare change in plastic eggs and hide them in the yard. But they were wise, see, and knew that a basket full of hard-boiled eggs wasn’t enough to get kids going in the seventies. We had Star Wars action figures and Choose Your Own Adventure books to buy. It was all about the cold-hard cash, even on the J-Bird’s birthday. The eggs all looked the same, but had different amounts of money inside. Some had seventy-five cents, some had a penny. So, it didn’t really matter how good you were at the game, it was all just a matter of whether or not you were lucky and found the right eggs. Cousin Jack could only find three eggs, but walk away from the yard with $2.25, whereas I could find fifteen and walk away with 28 cents. BOOM. “That’s life, kids,” said the game. “Life is full of colorful things that are hidden from you. Although they all look round and shiny on the outside, some of them are worthless and some are valuable, so just grab as many as you can before someone else gets them and hope for the best.”
Well, fine then. Lessons learned. Thanks, old people and lazy kids. (Sabrina takes a deep, cleansing breath and focuses on her “Hang In There, Kitty” poster) I think that I just need to create some new traditions and holiday magic for myself. Let’s see…
Here’s number one. This is the new Easter song in my house:
We are all going to listen to this song while we whirl in our yard like dervishes. We are going to eat Easter nachos and watch The Royal Tenenbaums. We are going to think about making sandwiches for homeless people, but decide to do it next year instead. We will keep the tradition of fancy hats and shiny shoes, for we are not animals. Amen.
Holiday memories or fantasies to share? Please submit to “Dr. Bieberlove” c/o the box underneath this post. Happy hunting, everyone!