here comes Peter Cottontail!

After the great Valentine's Day debacle of 2008, the Pastor had me send him an e-mail detailing all the dates I expected presents. I know, romantic, huh? However, it is highly effective and efficient. This is what happens when you marry a Scholar.

In my e-mail, I'm fairly sure I covered just about everything - Groundhog Day, Arbor Day, Flag Day (oddly enough - the Pastor's b-day!) but now I'm really not sure for which holidays I made demands, so I don't know if I should be excited or bracing myself for disappointment this weekend.

It's exhausting.

I'm already slightly disappointed. There's no little kids around here. No big fluffy dresses, no hats, no gloves. No eggs to hunt. No one (but me) excited about the Bunny coming.

I'm making Nate dye eggs with me. The 13 year old is thrilled. And it's not like the good ol' days when you could stick him in an empty bathtub with the eggs and dye for easy mess clean-up. Nope, the gangly, taller-than-me teenager will have to "help" me at the kitchen counter. He'll probably want to dye all the eggs black, or make me figure out some way to put the Hurley logo on them.

And I'm trying to be a good daughter and make Easter dinner. Since Dad is on the mend, thought I would make the traditional Easter dinner of enchiladas. I was even going to put meat in some of them. I hear some people like that. Changed my mind, now it's the traditional Easter dinner of taco salad. But now I am making dinner on Saturday, and Mom is making the ham (her claim of the tradiional Easter meal) on Sunday. So now we are both cooking??? What's up with that? Nice work, Dad! : )

But I'd think that if the Pastor was going to celebrate anything, it would be Easter.

Anywho, just in case, I wouldn't want the Pastor hoppin' down any bunny trails, so I've included some visual imagery here. I know how boys like visual imagery. I do what I can.

Mom already gave me my white chocolate rabbit. But don't forget, everything at Godiva? Half price on Monday!

You're welcome.

and p.s. if I got one of these Bonnie Cashin bags in my basket? I promise I'll never, ever want another Coach bag as long as I live.*

*As long as I live throughout the duration of this season of bags.

Thank you Easter Bunny.

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