Easter is a frightening holiday.

Don't get me wrong- I like chocolate. But chocolate is not easter. Chocolate is the old aphrodesiac of Mexican gods. I make that way sometimes- straight from the bean, lightly roasted, and ground with pepper and other spices, hot and not sweet at all, and intoxicating. Angie liked it that way best too.

And eggs! I cannot bake much without eggs. But if you look at an egg, it takes a lot of bravery to just eat the egg. That's chicken abortions, that is. And when I think about eggs that way, I do not want to eat them. I do not like to dye them. Too much mess in my kitchen! But I do like the colors. I would go help with egg hunting in the park, but Frank will not let me go. He says something about an injunction. I do not understand. I only helped find the eggs and then hide them again. I am not responsible for any failure of theirs to locate them. And in Egypt, eggs represented the soul, as they were whole, and unformed. This does not make me which to eat them more. I do not live in the dark, eating souls and swallowing them whole.

Jesus, it is said, was risen again, and walked from his tomb. Now, the only other thing I've heard has done that is vampires. And the Communion of this is body eat, this is my blood drink.... That just creeps me right out. When a thing is dead, I'd really prefer it to stay dead, thank you.

And bunnies and newborn fluffy things come on easter. Well, it is Spring. Things get born in the spring. Things die in the fall, and I suppose we celebrate that too. But it's not an easy cross to bear, let me tell you.

But I can't stay home with the Christmas lights winking the attic. No. I am taken away and forced to watch the cannibals celebrate the vampire. And I am not content.  ¶ 5:22 PM