Hippity-Hop

I just took my yard snowmen down.

I kept them up after the holidays because as anyone who lives in the Northeast knows, we’re more likely to get snow in February than in December. And I hear yard snowmen are good luck if their arms are turned upward. Unless I’m confusing them with elephants and raised trunks. Nonetheless, it would seem that my incessant complaining and strategic snowman placement worked, because we actually got some snow this winter.

Don’t mention it.

My snowmen are stored away, but we all know that winter ain’t done with Jersey yet. I mean, right now we’re being treated to a 13 degree wind chill. By my calculations, we still have about eight bleak gray New Jersey weeks to look forward to. More snow probably, plus lotsa gray, lotsa rain, and lotsa fog. But no matter. Spring has sprung for me, because today is Ash Wednesday, and my thoughts turn naturally to Easter.

This Easter is the first our family will be able to celebrate appropriately after 22 years of spring travel. We have always traveled south and have never, not once, enjoyed our home on Easter Sunday. We have spent Easter Sunday in places like Hatteras, Hilton Head, Myrtle Beach, Hawaii, Cocoa Beach, Miami, Orlando, Puerto Rico, Mexico, Costa Rica.

Everywhere but home.

So with no school children home anymore, we no longer have to travel Easter week and we get to enjoy the Easter traditions I enjoyed growing up. I can actually set up my sons’ Easter baskets on the dining room table like my parents used to do for me. I will bake them Sunday brunch casserole and cinnamon cake. I will force them to watch “My Fair Lady.” I will lay out pastel-colored shirts for them to wear. I will listen to Mozart and watch them play hopscotch in the driveway. I will treat them to an Easter egg hunt. I will lay out a bowl of Italian nuts. I will make my mom’s Easter roast, her Easter pie, her Easter cookies. Deviled eggs, au gratin potatoes, buttermilk biscuits, winter salad, seared balsamic brussels sprouts (yeah, there’s an “s” at the end of brussels sprouts. Who knew?) homemade Italian cheesecake, espresso with cinnamon….

(Can you tell I’m on a diet? Food porn is a thing).

I jest. Some of those things won’t really happen, but I will cook, and I do still get my boys Easter baskets. When they were little they weren’t really into candy, so I started filling their baskets with fun. Colored sidewalk chalk. Sticker books. Plastic sunglasses. Bubbles. Army men. Pinky balls. Then they got older and I started putting in video games, Big League gum, ten-dollar bills, cool socks, Nerf balls, maybe a hat. By the time they were in high school, their standard Easter basket was filled with a Wawa gift card, a new snazzy pair of board shorts, surf wax, a $20 bill, one small chocolate bunny, Peeps, some jelly-beans and a t-shirt. This is the standard that remains today.

I have to mention last Easter, and the fact that I don’t remember much about it. Honestly. It was only a few weeks after the pandemic was really becoming a thing, and the news was broadcasting the end of the world. Schools were closed, stores were sketchy, and I sort of remember that we ordered to-go food from somewhere. How this can be, I’m sure I don’t know. But I vividly remember listening to Mozart on my patio while drinking coffee, and suddenly making the decision to make my mom’s Easter biscotti. The smell of the vanilla just permeated the house like it did in my house growing up, and I remember one of my sons walking through the kitchen and remarking he had never smelled anything so delicious. It was a strange, low-key Easter with only two of my three sons home. I think. Very strange that I can’t remember.

Needless to say I’m looking forward to a more animated Easter hippity-hopping its way through my house this year. We will unfortunately have to forego a big family Easter on my side, as the health and well-being of a brand new baby and several senior citizens must be put as our first priority. So I will consider this Easter as practice for next year.

But before I can even think about Easter, I have to get through this week, so I can get on my airplane unencumbered. There are vile things to attend to. I have an actual list sitting next to me right now entitled, “Vomitous Things to Do This Week That Make Me Sad to Have to Acknowledge at All.” The mere sound of them is enough to raise the bile in my throat:

Converting Funds. Tax Filing. Website Maintenance. Photo Shoot. Business Facebook. Call to Lawyer. Video Teaching. Zoom Call. Buy Vegetables.

So I’m gonna get to it. Tune in tomorrow for a spirited story about my spring ducks. More importantly, it is about animals who return.