Sleepy Sunday

The kids slept in this morning, relatively so at least; 6:45a was the first time I heard the pitter-patter of Ol's feet. He'd forgotten about Easter so I didn't remind him until Jack woke up about twenty minutes later. They were thrilled by the treats EB left: a Lego Yoda watch for J; the new Otis book for Ol; eggs full of jelly beans and chocolates. It's gray and chilly here; rain keeps threatening. Nevertheless, Jack and T raked the yard this morning while Ol and I went to the farmers market and regular grocery. He cute-suckered me into paying $5 for a half-gallon of apple cider but he did ask for two bunches of kale so I think that evens things out. Look at these gorgeous beets we bought- they glow! And the roots are so small and tender, the leaves perfectly healthy and not raggedy in the least. I can't wait to eat them.

Do y'all know one of the few things that brings me down when I visit places like Louisiana? The seeming lack of concern for environmental welfare. You could not find a recycling bin if your life depended on it in New Orleans. In fact, and in all seriousness, the only ones I could find were at the one Whole Foods and only accepted plastic containers and paper shopping bags. Oh, and all things Mardi Gras. But no cans, no glass, no other paper, no plastic bags. I'd saved all our recyclables all week assuming I could at least bring them to a drop-off site, and it killed me to toss most of it out. We, six of us!, accumulated only one bag of garbage but four of recyclables. Can you imagine if that was the ratio for every household AND recycling was mandatory? Can you even fathom how much less ecosystem-destroying crap would stay out of our dumps and landfills? It really depresses me because there are many more towns like New Orleans and Lake Charles than there are those like Portland, Seattle and even DC where you can recycle pretty much everything. It's so easy and in the long run conserves so much in the way of money, natural resources, animal habitats and so forth. Sigh.

Admission: When I'm in a place that does not recycle, I bring as much of my recyclable stuff back home with me as I can stuff into my bags. It's definitely kinda OCD but it makes me feel better!

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....