Pastels

It is Easter.  It is something I haven't celebrated since I was a kid, something the family did with relatives.  I never liked it.  Repeat.  Never.  Sometimes there was church.  I didn't like going to church.  At all.  The entire thing creeped me out.  And I didn't like pastels.  I'm a primary color kind of person.  I never liked the candy in my cheap Easter basket, not the fake plastic green grass nor the big hollow waxy centerpiece chocolate Easter bunny.  I didn't like the jelly beans and I never enjoyed chocolate wrapped in foil.

As an adult, I have never done a thing for Easter.  Nothing.  Ever.  I've been an adult for a long time.  So I may be in trouble today, for Ili is an Easter kind of girl.  She's used to getting expensive baskets with a Tiffany centerpiece, I think.  I don't have the money for the one thing and don't have the desire for the other.

Yes, there will be trouble.

I did watch "Breakfast at Tiffany's" with her Friday night.  I realized that I had only seen it in bits and pieces and had never watched it from start to finish.  I went to bed with "Moon River" in my head.

Saturday morning, we got up and spread twelve yards of cypress mulch in the driveway and beds.  I've done this once a year for twenty years, I guess.  That's how long I've owned this house.  I've usually done it alone.  And it used to be worse.  I had three driveways to mulch.  That took me two full days usually.  But a couple years ago, I made two of them rock drives, so now there is only the one.  The last time I did this, alone, it took me about five hours.  But yesterday, with Ili's help--we set a World's Record!  We finished the entire project in exactly two hours.

This morning, my hands are sore from wielding the giant pitchfork.

Yesterday, though, I felt like a real cowboy.  There is nothing like working in the yard to get the neighbors to stop and talk.  They love to see you working in the yard.  And so, I used my standard line over and over again: "Yup, this is what makes cowboys so tough."

As I look out over the driveway this morning, it is lovely.

My mother is coming for Easter brunch.  Ili is going to have me dye eggs this morning.  She's already boiled them.  I know they will be pastel in color.

I have finished up two stressful weeks at work and have met all the deadlines I didn't think I could meet.  And I am exhausted.  All I want to do is sit and meditate, drink herbal teas and read.

But there is Easter, and that won't happen.