Easter, that celebration of chocolate and bunnies, and chocolate bunnies, has again been survived successfully, in no small part because I have a husband who possesses great reserves of patience and who desires nothing more in life than to provide me whatever I want. This comes in handy when nothing will satisfy me as much as an egg from See’s.
Of course, Easter isn’t all about bunnies and eggs (which, far as I can tell, aren’t related to each other), but it also apparently is about ham. We have nothing against ham, personally, and in fact it’s quite useful for ham sandwiches, ham and eggs, and as a doorstop, should one be desperate for one. But around here, we’ve decided that crab is the traditional Easter food. This necessitated a trip to pick up a stock pot on Easter, since we believe the concept of “planning ahead” to be terribly outdated. Anyone can plan ahead, but it takes a pioneer to venture forth without a plan.
Naturally, the store we wanted to visit for our stockpot was closed. We’ve been meaning to get one, especially since our last crab feast, but since we don’t plan ahead we didn’t need one until hours before we, well, needed it. But we found another store because, as my husband will tell you, if you drive around long enough, something’s going to be open somewhere.
Then to my favorite purveyor of crab.
They didn’t have any. Not a sign of a claw anywhere, not a leg, not even a packaged container of crab. Nothing.
Again, all it takes is perseverance, and we located crab at our next stop, both snow crab, my new favorite, and Dungeness. They had king crab too, but we thought two varieties would be enough.
So all in all it was quite successful, and I’m thinking this should be a regular tradition. Oh, not just Easter. Just anytime I feel like it.
I know there’s a theory that Easter is more than chocolate bunnies and ham, and believe me, I am quite cognizant of the contribution Jesus has made to this holiday. It was his idea in the first place, though I’m a bit confused on how he got bunnies involved. Must be the whole spring thing. Anyway, it’s not that I’m irreligious, it’s just that God and I have come to an understanding, after many conversations.
Last time we talked, God and I, was a couple of weeks ago, give or take a year. Time isn’t very relevant to God. I said, “Oh my God!” as I’m wont to do when something’s gone awry.
And as soon as I said it, I knew I was in trouble.
It is true that God has a booming voice, when he wants to, but when answering me he’s decided the big scary booming thing isn’t working, so instead he just says, “What now?” This usually comes from right behind me as God finds it quite amusing to see me jump a foot or two in the air.
I have to be careful when choosing my words with God. I mean, he KNOWS what I’m thinking, but he likes to see how I come out with it. And if I make a mistake in my grammar, he’s all over it.
“It’s just these towels aren’t coming out of the wash clean. I mean, they’re dog towels, but I’d like them to be really clean.”
“You called me for that?”
“I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”
“Do you really think I have nothing else to do?”
“I don’t know your schedule, God. Maybe if you’d let some of us view your calendar we can plan accordingly.”
“I’m always busy. If it’s not you and your prayers for clean towels, it’s your neighbor, praying for deer to stay out of the garden. Or it’s Howard, who’s always asking for a date. Do I look like a dating service?”
“Well, kind of.” I’m not really sure what a dating service would look like, but I don’t see why God couldn’t take care of these things. It would make life easier for the rest of us. Why should we try to figure it out when he’s the omniscient one?
I think of telling God this. Then I remember what happened when I suggested God look into taking over the mortgage industry. There was much bellowing, let me say that much, and I think I could smell sulphur, thought that might have just been allergies.
“Use extra bleach on the towels and you’ll be fine. Is there anything else you need, as long as I’m here?”
“Well, remember that conversation we had back in December? I asked for world peace, and you said you’d look into it?”
“I’m looking into it. There’s a feasibility study out on it right now.
“Ooookay. I guess that about does it then.”
As God faded away I could him or her muttering something that sounded like, “Damned stupid people, when will they learn to think for themselves?” I made the mistake once of asking God about God’s gender and God was displeased, so much so that I woke up the next day in a cave, with a note, “This is for being impertinent!”
So God and I have come to an agreement – I’ll try to fix my own problems and, in return, he won’t turn me into a rabbit. Or a ham.
That, and I’ll share my chocolate bunnies with him. It’s all good.