Easter is my fatty food marathon. Chocolate overload aside, I usually eat an enormous brunch, including my weight in rye bread that’s somehow been blessed which makes it OK, and then sleep until Tuesday morning. I awaken with Jelly Beans stuck to my hair, and then I vow to go on a run and not eat polish sausage until it’s presented again next year.
Sure, we did traditional Easter things that even non-secular folks do, like dyed eggs (we even got all wild and started making them look like Jackson Pollock art, which Pete wrote about over here on his blog). Yes, I have been gorging on them for 5 days. Why don’t I make hard boiled eggs ALL year round?