Thursday, April 13, 2006

Metaphors ...

So Lisa landed safely in Akron and called my cell phone while I was sitting down to lunch with my colleagues from work. Of course the inevitable question came "what are you going to do about Easter?"

As I said in my preceding post, I am just not into Easter. I just don't have all those warm, comforting, childhood memories of the holiday like I do about Christmas.Twelfthnight Party January 2003 (DSCN0764) My parents were atheists, so going to Church on Easter was never something we did. They did, however, celebrate Christmas with all the trimmings and it's always been important to me to carry on that tradition:
(Plus, green is my favourite colour, and red a close contendor for second place; Christmas's colours rock; pastels ... just don't.)

Now, I do have a few scattered childhood memories of an egg-hunt here, or an egg-colouring party there. But they clealry didn't make that strong an impression on me for me to want to carry on the practice. Plus, I did have friends whose parents were serious at least about going to Church on Easter, even if they never went the rest of the year, so I did end up being invited a couple of times to what to me were interminably long, insufferably boring Services where I was expected to sit quietly and not laugh and wear uncomfortable clothes.

Easter is very important to Lisa, however. She loves getting Easter Baskets full of all sorts of diabetic-coma-inducing treats. One of her funniest childhood memories is of the family dog, a gigantic German Shepherd, call in flagrante delicto standing all four paws on the dining room table with a startled expression on its face and easter grass hanging out of its jaws. Plus, Lisa is a huuuuge fan of roast lamb. I've made Lisa a few Easter Baskets in my time, of course, and we made one for her sister Gina when she got her new dog Salem:

Easter Basket for Salem (DSCN1414)
Of course this basket was full of dog-treats.

Lastly, I simply cannot abide Peeps, though I admit I won't turn down a Chocolate Bunny. But as our colleague Ron pointed out, "
you think the bunny is solid, then you bite into it and it's hollow".

"A metaphor," said our colleague Helen "for life."


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