Here it is Ash Wednesday, the day whereupon I traditionally sit on my ash and crank out some sort of Easter blog–and by ‘traditionally’ I mean one year in a row. Easter is a special time at our house and we celebrate the resurrection of The Christ by consuming gluttonous amounts of ham, a cloven-hoofed delicacy that ironically Jesus himself never ate because, as it reads in Leviticus, The Queen Mother’s Dijon-pineapple glaze is positively sinful.
Easter for me is a source of pleasant memories, not the least of which is coloring eggs as a child and waking up Easter morning to search for them around the house, as they were purportedly scattered about by some sort of mischievous long-eared rodent. A related memory is waking up a few days later to the sulfurous smell of the one or two that we overlooked.
A few years ago I created a more adult-type memory Continue reading