Happy Easter, everybody.  When I was a kid my parents–The Easter Bunny?–brought a basket full of good things that was sitting on the edge of the brick hearth when my brother and I awoke.  I actually have very few memories of what was inside the basket –the usual, I’m sure–but I cannot remember any specific treats.  I do, very clearly, remember the big impression, the magic of it, even if we knew it was mom & dad, it was that thing I am always attracted to–transformation.  The day into an extraordinary one.  The living room into a place of magic.  And unlike other holidays, this transformation was only about us.  The magic was only for us to consume.

Needless to say, maybe, Kip and I made each other Easter baskets–sort of unbeknownst to each other.  We’d hid them from one another until this morning.  I bought things for his that I also want to eat because, well, we’re adults, and we share everything.  Except he likes white chocolate and I don’t really.  So I got a few white things that he can enjoy–that transformation will only be for him, ya get it.  Peeps and Robin’s Eggs and Lindor bunnies and carrots, and smoked salt peanut butter cups, and whatever else seemed good and awful–“Cupcake Dough Bites” which I found at a gas station near Manchester, CT, and which seemed so hideous that I absolutely had to eat them.  They are hideous.  So, circle complete.

We have different strategies.  I eat one thing at a time, from beginning to end.  One savors each idea.  He opens everything in the basket and must immediately taste each item for deliciousness.  The tasting of the new flavor is the prime directive.  Then hodgepodge your way through until it’s all gone.  Typical us.

Hold the phone everybody, Kip is cooking dinner.  Pasta with sausage and broccoli rabe, with some sautéed garlic and pine nuts.  When he does, he is a good cook.  I guess if I don’t cook all day and then it gets to be 8pm, he’ll start making something.  New lessons in old relationships.

So I am on the couch writing this and watching Part 2 of the Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion.  The ladies are all in jewel and earth tones–some combo of jewel earth tone–copper and bronze and olive and pale pink, Kim Fields is in a fabulous jewel tone nude if that exists, but look, it does.  It looks like they planned it, but that seems counter-intuitive.  Don’t they generally try to out-do one another?  Cynthia’s hair is on fleek, as per usual.  Sheree is relegated to the end of the couch, farthest from Andy, which tonight seems like Siberia.  This reunion is sore for NeNe.

I’m off to the farm this week.  See you there?

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