Last One In

"....is a ROTTEN EGG," we used to say.

I phoned Mama this morning (6 blocks away) to coordinate Holy Weekend details. I did not mention that mine would likely begin with a little Herbal Homage. The High-Churchers have their incense, I have mine. Don't judge. It's helped me add 50 pounds and distinctly improves my demeanor - if only temporarily.

Speaking of demeanor and bad eggs, Mama tossed out this bon mot today when asked if she was taking the half-Catholic grandchildren to church on Holy Friday:

"If MY grandchildren don't want to go to church on Holy Friday, fuck it!"

I thought that summarized My Mama fairly succinctly. Anybody who can work Holy Friday, grandchildren, and "fuck it" into the same sentence without spending days on end working it out is all right by me. And so we begin the Passion. Today we will bury one another repeatedly under a load of orders and recriminations for past Easters gone bad. Hams will be forgotten and blame will be laid. Pies will be mis-made and names will be called. Someone will head to the in-laws instead and be badmouthed as though they'd driven the nails into Our Lord And Savior Jesus Christ themselves.

Too few Easter baskets will have too little candy. Too few eggs will have been colored to be hidden for the too few great-grandchildren who still look for eggs. Too few of those eggs will be found and will become May's Mystery Odor in someone's guttering.

I will make my now-standard cameo appearance at the Y'all Come. I'm bringing 7-Cup Salad, a staple from my childhood that is ambrosia-like, except that my grandma always told us it was NOT ambrosia. So it's 7-Cup Salad (that may resemble, in part, the ambrosia of your memory):

7-Cup Salad

Fruit Cocktail - drained
Mandarin Oranges - drained
Pineapple Bits (not chunks, as they are too large and not crushed, as it is too wet)
Cool-Whip
Marshmallows (The little ones - and not the colored ones. That's just un-natural.)
Coconut

The proportions are indeterminate and sort of tailored to your tastes. We like ours very fruity yet very cool-whippy, also. A couple of the cousins profess an aversion to coconut. They can leave it out when they make it - which has been something of an issue on recent holidays. Somewhere along the line, 7-Cup Salad got dropped off the menu and I find this unacceptable. Traditions do not get born every day and they should not be allowed to die simply because someone does not think of bringing the salad. Whoever used to make it should have very specifically handed off the responsibility to someone else. That is all I have to say about that.

The temperatures reached 88 degrees yesterday here on the prairie. The indoor temperature reached 86. I made a pact with myself (and the devil, it would appear) that I was not turning on the air conditioner. I knew it was going to be 65 degrees eventually and I am increasingly resentful of throwing money at energy companies. So I slept with the windows open and now I think I'm dying. I have a tonsil the size of a golf ball, leakage from my ear, nose and throat and that very special dry-mouth that only Sudafed can give.

I talked to Christi last night and all but dared her to turn on her A/C so I could go sit where it's cool. No dice. She has more stamina by far than I do. When I called Mama this morning, the first thing I said was, "First one to turn on their A/C is a rotten egg!" Her response:

"Can you smell me now?"

And so Easter begins.