Tag Archives: Holiday

On Easter

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Easter is not a time for groping through dusty, musty tombs to disprove spontaneous generation or even to prove life eternal.  It is a day to fan the ashes of dead hope, a day to banish doubts and seek the slopes where the sun is rising, to revel in the faith which transports us out of ourselves and the dead past into the vast and inviting unknown.  -Author Unknown

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Easter is my favorite holiday. Not only is it warm and okay to wear matching floral dresses, but there’s so much less pressure to EMBRACE THE SEASON and DECK THE HALLS during Easter (I’m looking at you, Christmas). Sure, there are Easter baskets, but who doesn’t love assembling and receiving a wicker container of assorted chocolates and athletic socks?

Easter also marks the beginning of true spring with its daffodils, baby lambs, and handfuls of kittens. It’s a fresh start to the year. A time when we actually start on those New Year’s resolutions; spend more time outside, take more walks, clean the attic, stop looking at my phone.

It’s a magical time.

Admittedly these past few months have been rough. I let winter get the best of me this year as I skulked around the house, complaining about my ovaries and crying over every blustery snowstorm. You may also remember I weaned my son in the dead of winter. There should be a warning label on such things. Something like: Do Not Mix Weaning with Seasonal Affective Disorder and Hormonal Drugs. YOU WILL GAIN FIFTEEN POUNDS.

As an aside, it seems this Holy Week is sharing its time with marriage equality week, complete with red equal signs and 1 man + 1 woman stickers plastered all over social media. The church (and our nation) is divided. We want to understand each other, but the conviction that we are right and they are wrong has made us crabby. It’s made me crabby. I find myself out of breath from the overwhelming desire to explain that if no one ever challenged religious authority, there’d be no laws against child abuse or domestic abuse. There’d be no democracy, no public schools, no women’s rights, no improvements to science and medicine, no abolition of slavery*. 

Jesus himself challenged religious authority. He stood up to the Pharisees like a lunatic hippie and reminded us that we are the church. All of us. We are the church and we are each other’s.

For believers in Christ, Holy Week is a time to remember that the love of God is stronger than all the hate and violence we bring to this world. A time to release our fears of change, of being different, of an angry god–and embrace the truth of Jesus. The truth of love.

A perfect time for marriage equality.

No matter what your religious beliefs, the story of Easter is a story of hope and a story of miracles. 

Easter says you can put truth in a grave, but it won’t stay there.

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*Leviticus 25:44-46: Your male and female slaves are to come from the nations around you; from them you may buy slaves. You may also buy some of the temporary residents living among you and members of their clans born in your country, and they will become your property.

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 Image: Silk Tie Easter Eggs made using these instructions via Queen Martha.

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I Love You (But Don’t Be Gross)

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Valentine’s Day.

Most of us pretend not to care because even though it can be a nice time to remind your lover how much you love them, it can also been kind of gross. Filled with PDA and braggy facebook posts about OH MY GOSH LOOK AT EVERYTHING HE DOES FOR ME. This is why most women boycott the holiday all together. We don’t want to look like the desperate sap who needs an I Love You and a box of carnations. No one wants to be that girl.

I used to be a hater, but recently I switched teams so I can get things like take-out and houseplants (thanks Baby Daddy). It’s really what you make it.

From this house to yours, Happy Saint Valentines day.

Spread some love today.

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What Really Women Want For Valentine’s Day + Arrested Development Valentines + Inconvenient Truths About Love

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Freewrite: In Case You Ask

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How was your Christmas?

This is what we ask each other until sometime around January 10th when we remember winter doesn’t end with Santa; this is our life now. All these layers of clothes and chapped noses and dry patches of skin are here to stay (unless you live in perpetually warm climate, but I can’t think about that).

My Christmas was fine. We spent the Eve with Austin’s family and the rest of the week with mine. As per usual, my mom set out food every half hour so I exclusively wore eating pants. My grandparents were there, I visited with old friends, Waylon received things like 90 pound stuffed bears. It was good.

At the end of the week we used my parent’s gift to us–tickets to cirque eloize and an overnight stay in the city. The show was really great, but mostly I was excited to sleep in a room without waking up at 6:30am with a toddler. It was amazing.

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After that, we immediately packed up the car and drove back home to our cold house which we quickly revived for weekend guests all the way from Nicaragua.

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It was lovely despite horrifying nasal congestion and a snow storm. Oh, and I took some save the date photos which I’m pretty proud of because shooting in the snow is hard. It’s fun, but it’s hard. Things get blurry.

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There were some other things, too. It’s already blending together. Tonight I’m throwing a very small New Year’s Eve party which I lazily dubbed a pajama party simply because I don’t want to get out of my pajamas today or ever. I promised a blanket fort, but now I’m picturing all these adults in a blanket fort and wondering if that’s weird. I guess there will be wine.

(This is starting to sound like a very long email to a friend you know will only skim. Feel free to skim.)

Oh! I finally read Gone Girl. My friend Elizabeth gifted it to me which was very sweet but also irresponsible because it’s one of those books that keeps you up until 2:30 in the morning, huddled under the covers, trying not to wake your spouse with gasps of “HOLY WHAT NOW?!”  One of those books that after you read it, you’re in recovery.

I read it in less than 24 hours, which is really a testament to the book because it was a busy weekend. I skipped out on a lot of sleep and ate meals without looking up.

As an aside, please note this book should be filed under “books not to recommend to someone on their honeymoon.” It’s also not a book for your mother-in-law. It’s okay if she reads it, but you don’t need to be the one to recommend it.

It’s strange. Every time I binge read a well written narrative, I find myself narrating my own life. “I stand in the shower, pensive…” or “He looked at me without actually looking at me and I knew, right then, he was thinking about hamburgers.” 

One more thing: my friend’s baby was born. Actually two babies were born this Christmas break. A baby boy to my friend Carrie and a baby girl to my friend Bethany.

I watched baby boy Rivers slide right out. I stood there, eyes full, snapping pictures and taking video. I’ve never witnessed a birth from this end before. I expected it to be beautiful, but not this beautiful. Strangely we laughed a lot too, but mostly I stood in awe, watching a story begin.

Welcome to the world, babies. You got this.

Happy New Year.

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Merry Christmas

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May we be full of Christmas cheer despite our odd families, scratchy throats, and unevenly wrapped gifts. Most of all, may we be joyful despite ourselves.

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Wishing you a time of peace, merriment, and long naps.

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Cheers to a new year._

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Valentimes

Valentines Day is crazytown no matter how you look at it.

You are either the cliché who says Valentines Day is for suckers or you’re out there buying candy hearts made out of chalkdust. It’s lose-lose.

I used to be a v-day hater, but I’ve recently switched teams because the other cliché gets me chocolate and presents. Also, I’m trying to be less of a hater these days. You know, for the kids.

Look, we all know the whole thing is a giant conspiracy made up by women to get flowers and presents and a night out. Who cares? We wash your underwear and fold your socks and spend two hours in the kitchen only for you to say “I’m just used to my mom’s lasagna.”

Boys, I know you’re confused. Just listen to your instincts. Chances are we’ve already gone all Inception on you and planted the right idea somewhere in your brain. It went something like “Janie’s husband surprised her last year by taking her dancing.” If you heard a sentence like that, it means DO THAT FOR ME.

Good luck.

PS: I love you, ABizzle. Happy V Day.

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