Icecream is Good!

chocolate bunnies and lambs! fingers richly dyed in the vegetable colors of food coloring, and it smells of sulfur and eggs! and fililments of green plastic grass, in your hair! caught in the hem of your easter dress!

and later when you have grown out of easter baskets and squirming in church in false petticoats, but after that phase of getting high in the parking lot with the pastor's son, when you have achieved the state's permission to drink bloody marys and get tatoos in your Sunday finest! you might just find yourself alone on a rainy Sunday, and all of the precepts of faith might have deserted you, as you weep alone in your bed reading the last book in the chronicles of Narnia, even in Good Friday was a fine, sunny day of lunches out and manicures and pedicures and some choice shopping. But Sunday, Easter Sunday leaves you a little desolate and a lot lonely. No rousting for the twice yearly trip to church, no Sunday dresses, no Easter basket, no fancy hats, no hunting eggs, no sticky peeps, no chocolate bunnies, no hunt for eggs, no sunshine. Just a late March downpour and tourists clumped under umbrellas, and sickly ocher sky, oh, and a head ache. And half a pint of Ben and Jerry's in lieu of a bunny and a basket, but even that cannot assuage the headache and the looming loneliness, and in the morning the scale will make accusations.

That, and I think I've lost my cell phone again... I suspect that I lost on Friday at the Reverend Horton Heat on Friday night when I was dancing with the rockabilly boy whose moves were less smoothe than silk, but that's a whole other lament....