A Spicey Easter

The forecast was predicting a 94% chance of a sweat pant-wearing,

no-showering-style Easter, likely lacking the usual Easter-style

fixin's (as that would have required a trip in the car to the grocery

store). In fact, the Easter bunny didn't even get her shit together

until just before noon, for the poor 3-year-old in the house ("Oh,

look, he must have come while you were intent on that Sponge-Bob

episode, Noel"....Well, actually she never really asked *why* the

basket of overflowing chocolate appeared...she's not one to look a

chocolate gift-horse in the mouth.)

But despite the best statistical method prediction analysis you could

buy, the odds were proved wrong. The neighbor called in the

mid-morning (OK, way before any adult without a 3-year-old would ever

conceive of waking up on a Sunday, but, mid-morning for me) and kindly

asked us over for Easter dinner at 1 pm.

So we did it. We went over for dinner with the neighbors that reside

on either side of our house (the food was a collaborative effort,

well, except for my help). There were kids jumping/playing video

games, men planted on couches, women in the kitchen, and dogs roaming

for scraps and licking the unsuspecting child: it was the usual

holiday setup. We watched movies, ate food, had conversation, ate more

food, bundled up leftovers to eat later, and zoned out. We had the

Easter favs: a ham, some smelly lamb, and potatoes, followed up with

pie and ice cream and sprinkled all over with chocolate Easter eggs.

The thing that I really hadn't planned on however, was the dinner

conversation. It started our harmless enough, with the discussion of

an upcoming holiday to FL and the newest renovations on the respective

houses. But suddenly it veered and before I new what had happened,

the conversation had drifted into an area that had never graced my

ears at a dinner table, much less for a religious holiday. Yay,

Jesus...wanna bang? Swinging became the hot topic, and I don't mean

at a playground. Everything from the other neighbors on the street

that were already engaged, to the future possibilities-involving said

dinner mates. I could tell from some reactions that I was glad *not*

to have a visual in my mind of the other neighbors who were already at

it. And for those too young to fully comprehend the discussion at

hand, an unabridged dictionary was procured to clearly define

"swinging." Yow, it was gross. I'm not sure how my stomach didn't

just immediately reject it's contents, in hindsight. But, in some ways

it was a very educational experience. Curtains for my windows stepped

up in priority from "cute decoration accessory" to "goddamn

imperative." Bye now....gotta hit the closest Bed, Bath, and

Beyond.....

Done