happy holidays?
My lovely wife completely digs on the holidays. Me, not so much. I'm certain I can attribute my lack of enthusiasm for all days send-a-card-worthy to my many years of working in the restaurant industry and having to contend with the fact that I'd be working on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day and sometimes my birthday (as it falls on Mother's Day every six years). Thus, rather than bitching, moaning, and whining about my obligation to my employer, I decided some time ago that if I didn't care about the holidays, I wouldn't so much mind working during them. This tactic proved quite effective and, while I haven't been required to work Thanksgiving or Christmas since my days as a waiter and bartender long ago at the Heathman Hotel, I'm still expected to serve the hungry and thirsty masses on all of the other aforementioned holidays. Although I still never really look forward to working on these days, so infamously known in the restaurant industry as "amateur nights," I soldier forward nonetheless.
But, as I mentioned before, J loves the holidays. I'm not sure why, but she really really looks forward to them and enjoys making special plans to commemorate the day right down to a special meal and gifts commensurate with the theme of that particular holiday. She gets angry when I make fun of the holidays, particularly the ones I refer to as "Hallmark Holidays," such as Valentine's Day. There's no reason in my mind why we need to feel compelled to dine out exactly on February 14 and exchange tired roses and red-wrapped boxes of chocolates to prove our love to one another.
Easter is one of those holidays that I can pretty much take or leave. In fact, I could actually do without it. As an atheist-ish Buddhist, I can't wholly get behind the Christian sentiment of Easter and have yet to figure out what baskets and bunnies and marshmallow Peeps have to do with it all. Furthermore, why does everyone seem to go out for brunch on Easter? Needless to say, I haven't really been the model of what J had in mind when it comes to "how we should celebrate Easter." As far as I'm concerned, it's just another Sunday and should be treated as such. J, an avowed pagan, not only wants the candy-filled basket, but wants said basket hidden so that she can search relentlessly until she finds it. Partaking in this manifestation of how to do Easter just doesn't work for me, doesn't feel natural. Every year it seems we debate this and so rather than spending Easter my way (as if it were any other Sunday) or her way (as if the Easter Bunny had paid a visit), we typically spend the day arguing about how to spend the day...
This year it seems I won the argument, despite never actually having one, as we had a lovely morning enjoying our coffee and then went downtown to see a movie. At the conclusion of the emotional ringer that is Million Dollar Baby, we headed over to the Veritable Quandary for a stiff libation and a good burger and then came home and enjoyed a quiet evening playing cards. As there was no mention of the Easter Bunny or any of his/her tendencies, I thought I was finally free and clear, off the Easter hook until
this morning when J carries a package upstairs and I notice that it's decorated appropriately for the "holiday" with a basket, eggs, and even fake grass. Upon opening the package, J was delighted to find a "basket" of sweet and salty treats, Peeps and all. Without really thinking first, J then exclaims, "Oh! It was a good Easter after all." And who do we have to thank for making Easter happen in the most Easter appropriate manner??? Was it the Easter Bunny? No, it was J's Jewish (step)mother. The world works in funny ways, indeed.
