It's Monday morning, and I am eyeing the lurid colored eggs that are nestled in my lunchbox and wondering if it's too early to plough into lunch. For some reason hard boiled eggs are hitting the spot right now in this somewhat nauseous journey of the first trimester. What good timing! Our fridge is now crammed with the things (next to the lard). Enough for the whole week! And my coworkers get to enjoy the sulphurous fumes as I peel the buggers and eat 'em whole.
(but not before dabbing them liberally into the ziplock of salt I so cleverly have stored in my desk draw).
It was definitely an interesting weekend. A veritable smorisborg of pagan/jewish/christian ritualistic tradition, where Elijah got down with the Easter Bunny, and the Wise Child got hopped up on Cheeps. Saturday night we went over to our neighbors' for their yearly Passover tradition (sensibly downloaded from the internet as the 30 minute Seder--5 kids under 6. Enough said). The ritual begins with a caveat from our hosts--that this tradition is approached with irony and a certain degree of irreverence. Despite the caveat, there's a whole lot of hebrew being spoken from memory (very impressive to goyim like me) and we do make it through the meat and potatoes of the ritual, and the story does get retold with respect.
Eventually. Interspersed with "Hey, Elijah drank my wine!" and "The Ten Commandments was deeply homoerotic, y'know." "That was Spartacus, dumbass!" and "By now we are on the fourth glass of wine..Drink Up!" Oh, and halfway through the eating of the bitter herbs, I had to hightail it to the backyard to rehide all the easter eggs my three year old had prematurely hunted and brought to me for safety (asking me to keep all 30 eggs safe from the other children). Towards the end of the evening, the addition of the Harry Potter on t.v. meant that the Occult was also safely represented. It was a full and culturally rich evening. And I got to eat as many boiled eggs in saltwater as I wanted. With a spoon.
The next day, the Jews schlepp on over to our hourse, where"Easter" is represented. This definitely seems less a chance to celebrate the rich tradition of christian holiday than an opportunity to feed the hangover garnered from staying out late and drinking with Elijah. Ham on Matzo is food for the soul in that regard. Chocolate bunnies aren't bad either, apparently.
Of course, I wouldn't know, being knocked up and sensible and all THAT. So, to compensate I spent a good deal of my time goading our guests about how I was completely and utterly sober and hangover free, and how I am just so sad that people feel the need to indulge to such levels, especially during these family times. To which I was informed that I was "a Mean Non-Drunk..."
Screw them... (she said, bitterly)