It's been a while since I've celebrated Easter beyond half-heartedly dying eggs and leaving them in a relative's refrigerator. I went over to the folks' house over the weekend and the whole family spent Sunday acting like full-blown Christians (the non-practicing variation that celebrate religious holidays with candy while ignoring the unpleasant obligation to attend an early-morning church service). Some questions that have dogged me about the holiday were finally answered but still others remain a mystery....
Q: Do women still wear Easter bonnets on Easter?
A: No idea. We actually planned to attend a service this weekend but decided to sleep in and eat a late breakfast at the Laurelwood instead. Heathens, the lot of us, but they do make a mean breakfast burrito. Plus, we weren't the only Protestant-lookin' family in there drinking craft beer at 1 PM on a Sunday. No one else in the place was wearing bonnets, Easter or otherwise.
Q: Is the "Too Tall Bunny" really too tall for his box?
A: Nope. Upon closer inspection you'll notice that his feet don't actually go through a hole in the bottom of the box. In fact, 30% of his cardboard home is filled with air instead of bland-choco bunny goodness. "Too Tall" is the candy, basketball-dribbling, hare equivalent of Spud Webb or Damon "Mighty Mouse" Stoudamire.
Q: Is there such a thing as Easter carols?
A: My mother seems to think so but was unable to come with evidence beyond a few scattered lyrics about Easter bonnets mixed with lines from the "Peter Cottontail" song. I suspect not.
Q: What happens if you stick one of those Easter egg coloring tablets in your mouth?
A: 
Q: What do holiday-themed stuffed animals do on Easter when you aren't around?
A: 
They go all Yogi the Bear on yo' Easter-ic baskets.
Q: How exactly did Mr. Christ (AKA our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ) die for my sins?
A: No idea. He passed away nearly 2000 years before I was born. I was at least a millennia away from so much as single incident of coveting my neighbor's possessions and/or significant other. I mean, I've never even met the guy...
Q: How many Easter bunnies can you stack on my father before he wakes up and starts throwing them?
A: Another unanswered question. We ran out of bunnies after nine.
Q: Did those people that dress up in bunny costumes and ride around Portland on bicycles actually head out on their annual ride yesterday despite the inclement weather?
A: If they did, they weren't passing over the Burnside Bridge around a quarter to three. Must've missed them.
Q: What happens if you aren't around to greet the actual Easter Bunny after he makes a previously unscheduled stop at your place at the "tale" end of a long day spent delivering treats around the world?
A: He gets wicked pissed and leaves you a nasty, obscenity-filled note before hiding all of your "pwe-cious eggs." To read the unsettling note he left at my parent's place, click the image above. It discredits a substantial amount of previously assumed Easter Bunny lore (keeping himself out of sight, hiding eggs for fun, not spite, sticking with sobriety, having legible handwriting, etc.)
Q: How long do you have to cook "Easter lamb" before it becomes too dry and tough?
A. The same amount of time it takes to botch the asparagus and dump too much milk in the mashed-potatoes. Sorry, Mom and Dad. It was, uh, all Shanna's fault. At least the deviled eggs turned out ok, right?
Also: putting the bunnies on Dad and posting a photo online was her idea, not mine.
UPDATE: This post made it into Tuesday's edition of the Blogometer. Huzzah!
