It’s a brilliant blue-and-yellow Friday. The kids are out of school – Scamp is at the Met with her dad, and G is having a lie-in. Bernardo and I are about to go up to Pastosa to fetch our Easter lamb. (Though I hear him grinding more coffee first – reason #793 why I love this man.)
I grew up Presbyterian and Scots-Irishy, so my family celebrated Easter in a very proscribed way. Easter baskets at the breakfast table (with a new Bible, a glow-in-the-dark cross that said God Is Love in gold letters, and a sticker book of some educational/spiritual value being the usual sorts of presents). Then off to church, but not before my mom had to go back inside while we waited in the car, so she could hide the eggs we’d dyed the day before. Church was a floral bedlam – flowers all over the sanctuary, and also on all the Easter dresses. A church breakfast followed – with eggs in biscuits, glazed donuts, and Jell-O fluff. The kids all ran around outside, where we inevitably encountered dead rabbits killed by off-leash dogs. And then we came home to hunt down the eggs, and have egg salad sandwiches for lunch. The rest of the day was pretty anticlimactic. Dinner was pretty usual.
Now, living with an Italian Catholic man (and having converted myself, 10 years ago), things are much more raucous. We’re going to have a big pranzo, with a very young lamb. Lots of family at the table. Lots of food and wine. Messier, louder, and in many ways much more of a production. (At some point I will outgrow the desire to dye eggs but not anytime soon.) Scamp and G will get Perugina eggs. As for church…we are still working that out. The Catholic church has taken a very sharp direction I’m not real happy about; it is hard to sit through a service anymore. On the other hand, it’s hard to chuck all that RCIA work out the window and go Anglican. So it will be a church-less Easter, most likely.