Hop Hop Hop!

Every year when Easter rolls around I tend to go on and on about my love for mini-eggs.  But something horrible has happened, I appear to have lost my love-on for the tiny candy shells of chocolaty goodness.  Not that I still don't love them, I do, it's just . . . .  well, I sort of am sick of them.  

WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME?  

And cream eggs?  Yup, still good.  But I only needed one this Easter season.  Well, if I was in New York for Easter (which I go back to next week so maybe the Engineer will get the hint) I would be all over the new cream eggs they have there - they are filled with orange fondant!  YUM-O!  It's like Terry's Chocolate Orange meets Easter.  They are awesome.

Something is wrong here.  Usually at this time of the year, I am stuffing my snout with mini-eggs, buying pastel coloured clothes and going nuts for Easter egg hunts.  

Not this year.  Nope.  

Is it because I am far away from my family?  Or the Engineer?  Or is it simply because I am getting a bit older and the appeal of painting eggs has left me?

Maybe because it is a religious holiday and I am not religious? Wait, I am.  Sort of.  I am a Buddhist, but we aren't really the 'worshipping deity' sort of crowd.  We have no holidays.  At least I don't think so.  Certainly none that involve chocolate, presents, carols, bunnies, or eating turkey.  I must say that the Buddhists got shafted when God was handing out fun holidays.

I went through a 'am I a Christian?' phase a few years ago.  I must admit that I still like going to church on occasion.  Only because I like the ornate ceremony and the music.  And sometimes if you get a good sermon-person, what they are saying can apply to life.  Not just Jesus.

In my phase, I attended a Good Friday mass.  Something I am sure I haven't done since my Grandma took me to her country church in small town Alberta.  I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the Good Friday service resembles a funeral.  More shocked than surprised actually.  I mean I suppose that is exactly what Good Friday is.

People were sombre (more so than usual) and wore black.  In fact, one lady in my pew was sobbing and wiping her eyes with tissue.  I so badly wanted to lean over and whisper, 'don't worry, he'll be rise again in three days' but somehow I felt that was inappropriate.

The singing was beautiful and the day was sunny and warm. Maybe that's what it is.  Today Easter resembles a terrible storm of rain coming down in sheets so much so that Brooklyn refused to walk (or maybe it was the fact I put a raincoat on him?).  Maybe I would feel much more Easter-ish if it was sunny and warm, and I could wear flip flops.  

Because that is what Easter is all about.  Wearing flip-flops.  And shades of pink.  Or going to K's parents house and drinking pink champagne . . . . which is precisely what I am going to do.

ps.  a friend pointed out today that Jesus is the original zombie.  Weird holiday indeed . . .