Hey, Anna-Liza here. Y’all, I live in a fabulous neighborhood.
No, we’re not wealthy. Paparazzi don’t cruise through on the chance of getting a big scoop. We are, however, two blocks from a pretty good brewpub, a couple comfortable coffee houses and an excellent used bookstore.
This is a pretty old neighborhood. It was the first one platted here, in the late 1800s, and about half of the houses date from the 1890s, maybe more than half. There’s another group from the 20s, and so on. The streets are laid out in a grid pattern, most places have front porches, people walk here when the weather’s nice. And we have a lot of neighborhood parties which always involve food and wine. Easter is usually the first occasion in the year for one of these.
A couple who live about a block south of us always host this big Easter egg hunt and party. Dan and Jackie hide between 300 and 400 plastic eggs filled with candy. Once all the kids are gathered, they all get a basket, and then Dan rings a big bell, and off they go! Like cockroaches in a south Texas kitchen when you turn on the light, only cuter and more pastel.
Dan keeps a bunch of eggs back to hide in case of latecomers, too–these folks are both kind and smart. After all the eggs are found, there’s an Easter parade–all the kids get musical instruments and march up and down the sidewalk more or less in formation.
This year, there was a bonus–an “Easter egg” hunt for the adults. One of the across-the-street neighbors set it up in his back yard, and we hunted for … miniature bottles of liquor. This was greeted with much enthusiasm, as you might imagine.
And in between the “scheduled” events, there was food and drink and conversation with folks we haven’t seen for several months–pretty much all winter. It was really nice to reconnect and catch up. The kids had a blast playing with each other and driving the two motorized mini-cars up and down the sidewalk and going really high on the rope swing.
When we got home, Darlin’ K and the kids had a pretty long nap, while I puttered around with dinner prep and blogged. (Is it weird to write in past tense about something I’m actually doing now? But by the time you read this, it will have already happened.) And Zombie Son will be coming over for dinner later–his birthday is tomorrow, too. He’ll be 20. (cue eerie music)
That can’t really be right, can it? This physical body/linear time stuff just freaks me out sometimes.