Bok, Bok, E-Bunny.

It's Easter and we ate too much! Easter is one of those holidays I always looked forward to as a kid. I got to dress up, the weather was just starting to break, I got new clothes, and I was shuttled to church with a healthy sugar buzz. I will, however, (I know, it's hard to believe that I might indeed throw some cynicism in here) think that the actual meaning of Easter gets a little overshadowed by our giant, creepy, poofy-tailed friend who hops into the living room and leaves a basket of fake grass and goodies. Not to mention (spoiler alert!!), the aforementioned friend was the one who tipped me off to the fact there was no Santa Clause. My over-developed sense of childhood logic and my grandmother's unwillingness to lie to me following direct questions, conspired to lift the ever delicate veneer of magical holiday heroes from my eyes, wrecking my carefully constructed belief in sleighs full of magical reindeer, giant rodents kicking off my spring with milk chocolate, and tiny fairies airlifting giant bags of quarters all over the world, monetarily rewarding the loss of baby teeth. My tiny brain thought "giant bunny? in my house? bringing candy? no way. what else could be a giant lie?". And thus began a new era of less magical holidays. Being around a 4-year old that still buys the magic, however, has added a new dimension of fun to the whole thing that I've been lacking for several years. It's cool to see him get excited, and allows me to vicariously feel a bit of that excitement again. And, there's always ham. Ham is exciting.

Wedding planning. I am feeling a tremendous amount of guilt over wedding planning. Contrary to popular belief (and the fact that it is literally a part of my job title) I am not much of a planner. So far, we have been about as successful at planning our wedding as Coach Rodriguez was at tactfully making a lateral job move. We looked at one venue: too expensive. We placed another venue in our sights: they would never call us back, lost their chef, and put the whole place up for sale. So, we are on the venue hunt again. Meg found a dress she really, really liked, then second-guessed it due to price, and now is looking again. I have, admittedly, not been very helpful in my suggestions: "We'll get the dress anyway!": shot down. "How about kilts?!?": shot down. "Man, a nacho bar would be cool!": as of this writing, being contemplated with a potentially positive result. I honestly would marry the woman in a tool shed if she were wearing manure-covered overalls (and in a rare moment of politcal correctness, I will apologize in advance to anyone belonging to a culture who believes in poop-covered matrimony), but in the end I want her to be happy. I view our wedding as an "us" moment, but a "her" time to shine. And a potential "nacho time" for all involved.

That's all I've got for now. Happy Easter!!