Easter Bunny

Why we, as irreligious, non-church-goers, make a to-do about a giant bunny hopping through to deliver candy and goodies in baskets on a day I can't much explain is beyond me, but hear-hear to random, fun traditions of childhood! ;)Not bad for just getting home. Hear-hear to pre-trip organization too!

Saturday stuff

Home! Funny how after even the greatest of trips, it's still lovely to get home. To be home. To settle back in. To look around the place you call yours and be happy to see it. To become reacquainted with your pets. To hear your children say, "we like our house." To know the peccadilloes of each appliance, to know just where exactly what you need is. I love to travel, love to explore, but home is home, and that's nice.

While we were away, my second family (my sister and their daughter became inseparable friends at the tender age of 4 and, thirty years later, are still thus; the four of them and the four of us are besties in every way, including all those who've married into this tribe; my second parents are both extremely talented artists and we once cooked our Thanksgiving turkey in their potters kiln. Utterly delightful. I think we named the bird Evelyn or something along those lines.) hosted a bridal shower for our newest incoming member, here. I was awfully sad to miss it but thought repeatedly how wonderful it is that an entire brood can have a party at your home when you're gone! If that's not the definition of loving closeness, I don't know what is. When we walked in tonight, flowers were everywhere, plates of party food wrapped in the fridge saved us from having to go out to the market, Nutmeg had been adored and cared for, vague semblances of them were here and there. It was a warm welcome back. And none of my flowers had perished in last week's snow. In fact, the ranunculus out front was going great guns. Will wonders never cease!

I need to go pack up the Easter baskets; would have done so earlier but Oliver just couldn't get to sleep after having snoozed (mercifully) most of the flight home. I think he's finally down so now's my cue. Poor T decided that tonight would be a good time to start the taxes. Sounds positively dreadful to me, but at least I'm not the one doing them.

As a last vestige of holiday, we ordered Indian take-out tonight, but I am eager to go to the farmers market tomorrow and get back to my cooking. While in the Quarter, I passed Kitchen Witch, a dusty, creaky, headed-by-a-man-in-a-beret-and-black-plastic-rim-glasses cookbook store selling tomes both new and old/older/vintage! I bought one from 1962, The Art of Creole Cookery, which lists as its fifth requisite, Alcoholic Beverages, and still uses the word Negro. I was delighted by the former and struck speechless by the latter yet am happy to add this treasure to my collection. Written by a seemingly unlikely pair, Sister Mary Ursula, Chairman (jesus, not even chairwoman) of the Home Ec department (Home Ec as a department!) at St. Mary's Dominican College, and William Kaufman, a New Yorker from NBC, the recipes nonetheless look mostly promising, especially the entire chapter on gumbos. Amen!

Off to bunny....

Heading home

It's come time to head home, and the boys left Misse and Poppy grudgingly. We devoured a last round of beignets once at the airport and are now encouraging them to twirl like dervishes until we board. Dad took me on a quick spin up and down St. Charles this morning so I could get some beaded-tree pics. Isn't this delightful!?

The last two days have been perfect: blue, breezy, warm, no humidity; true Louisiana spring, fleeting though it often is. Thursday night was great. My cousin and her family moved back to New Orleans two years ago and renovated a 1913 bungalow near Tulane. Her daughters are just younger than J and O and the four have a blast together. Anyway, my mom and dad, aunt and uncle, the four of us and my cousin's family got together for boiled crawfish, crawfish étouffée, a loaf of French bread nearly as tall as Jack, salad, beer, carrot cake, wine. The karaoke machine emerged, a dance party ensued. A memorable night for all.

Yesterday we putzed around the Quarter for a while; the street music and art there are really great. The boys each picked out a painted and mirrored plaster trolley for their bedroom walls. T and I bought a wonderful piece of art from an artist we’ve long admired, and the boys used their treat money for a snow-cone topped with King Cake and root beer flavors. What a revolting combo of flavors, yes? It ended up being gray and looked disgusting though the boys swore they loved it.