So today's Easter and like the little 20 year old kid that I am, I went Easter Egg Hunting. But, I'm getting ahead of my self.
Today when I woke up and went downstairs for breakfast I didn't even bother looking for an Easter basket as I fully expected the Easter Bunny to have forgotten my 20 year old self, as I am no longer a "teen" and therefore officially have been dragged kicking and screaming into the lable of Adult. But wouldn't you know it, he didn't forget me after all. Which, is weird, because out of all the post-teen children in the world I have always been one of his toughest customers. You see, I don't like chocolate.
You still there? Do I need to fetch some cold water? It's just the shock, you'll be fine I promise.
So where was I, oh yes, my abomination...any way. So the Easter Bunny had managed to bring me some hair sticks and clips as well as Nerds, Laffy Taffy, Jelly Bellys, and Runts. Yum!
Then after a healthy breakfast of Easter candy, I went to church with Mom and Dad, Sis [VBG] met us there. So I was having a good time belting my heart out through my congested nose in song, but God doesn't care, right? So in the middle of mass, Ihave my head bent piously trying to stay focused on the ceremony when Mom hisses in my ear, "look at the size of the host." Ony it takes a couple of times before I understand what she's saying. When I do and look in the right direction she leans in towards me agan and says, "it looks like a pancake," which it indeed did. It almost blocked his entire face from view at one point. So I leaned back over to Mom and said, "When am I going to be old enough to go up and get a cookie, too?" Because that's what I thought the host was when I was small, a cookie, and oh, I could not wait to be able to join everyone in the cookie line.
Sometime later I got a call from my boyfriend's aunt wishing me a happy Easter, and I got to talk to his two little cousins who both wished me a happy Easter. Those two are so adorable, or maybe I'm just a sucker but whenever I visit, it's always "Rose watch." and "I want Rose to take me to the bathroom" or "I want to sit by Rose." And then there's always the nine million questions. Why can't I visit them? Why do I have to go back home? Why this. Why that. It's cute and thought provoking. They have to understand the answers, and yet there sometimes isn't an easy explaination.
So then after filling Easter eggs and helping load things into the car, Mom and I are off to my aunt and uncles for Easter dinner. Where me and my 19 year old cousin are the two oldest participants of the Easter egg hunt. My cousin hunts because the eggs we bring always have Goldfish crackers and Teddy Grams in them rather than candy. I hunt because, darn it, I like finding the eggs. So there we have it: a 20 year old who still hunts for Easter Eggs, and is not ashamed of it at all.
Most of the time.
3 comments:
Heh. I thought the SAME THING about the size of the host. It was freakin' ENORMOUS!
when we were in college, i thought the bibliophile was crazy for hiding eggs all over the apartment. imagine my surprise when one of our roommates was so excited when she found one that she scoured the place hunting them, and then left the candy on the dining table for everyone else to eat.
I happen to looooove hunting for Easter Eggs, but never get to do it anymore.
However, when I was in college, my friends and I started a tradition, that, last I heard, had been adopted by some of the on-campus Christian groups. We, late Friday or Saturday night, the weekend before Easter (since usually, our Spring Break coincided with the holiday), would take 60 or so plastic eggs purchased at the local Walmart (the "Pure Land"...don't ask), and insert random quotes and sayings that we either a) had uttered earlier in the year(s) previous and that had been recorded in the "quote book", or b) made up on the spot, and scattered them across the campus. The best results were of course from our first attempt, with the "For a good time, call ext. XXXX" getting at least 3 calls (the number was one of my friends' dorm room number) and the ever-famous "Look at my cleavage when you talk to me" being found by the roommate of one of my friends who was known for wearing those tank-tops with the built-in bra, in what was probably a size too small, and anyways, D-cups shouldn't wear those without a bra in the first place. It's still funny to this day...at least to us.
Wow, that was long...
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