Ah Easter

I love Easter. It really is my favorite time of year. Probably because I've long harbored a suspicion that people's favortie time of year concides with the season in which they were born. Anyone care to verify or disprove that theory? Being a spring baby, I love all things spring: the flowers blooming, the days get longer, the trees start to bud, everyones moods lighten, the vegetables start to taste better. The only think I've never liked is spring milk. Not being a big fan of milk to begin with, I find it especially unpleasant when the cows are munching on new grasses. I prefer dead of winter milk truth be told.

This weekend found me sleeping a lot. We had Friday and Monday off work, so it was a very long stretch of time in which I could do nothing or everything as I saw fit. Friday I had coffee in the park with FFS. The sun was shining, it was particularly warm and well, I hadn't seen the girl in awhile so I dragged her kicking and screaming (not really, it was more like whimpering) to coffee. We watched a mother with her two daughters rollarskate around the green and decided that the 3 year old girls' Dora the Explorer Skates were more like shopping trolleys; the wheels go any direction but the one you want. Actually, the whole green was filled with children. It was a great way to spend an hour and much better that spending it in a hot crowded noisy cafe, which was the alternative. While waiting for our coffees in said noisy-hot-cafe (and telepathically willing people to leave their tables; didn't work, hence the green) I ran into a friend. 10 years I was in Dallas, I never bumped into anyone ever. But 1 year in Dublin and I see people all the time. It's odd. But there was Gillie, who took Italian with me last year. I haven't seen her since I moved to DL and she kissed me on the cheek, looked me up and down and said "you've lost a lot of weight!" (emphasis on a lot) which then caused FFS to look me up and down and confirm that yes, I've finally lost my Potato Pounds. Everyone gains weight when they move here. I blame it on all the Guinness, the potatoes and the abundance of taxis. It's not as if I was overweight, it's just that I was finally in the middle section of appropriate weight for my height. I'm now back down to my normal 'on the light side' of that scale, where I've always resided. But it's funny how you never notice these things on yourself.

Anyway, after coffee I showed FFS the new house, which is so convienently located that we are now neighbors. She lives a mere 5 minute walk from me, which means she can come over for dinner and put on some of the weight she lost when I moved out. Funny how change in women always equates to wieght. Anyway, she liked the house, especially the deck out back, wished me luck and sent me packing. No really; she sent me home to pack up so that I could move my things the following morning. Which is exactly what I did.

Joe, Tina, and French Nephew came to my aid the next morning and we managed to get everything done in about 40 minutes. I don't have a lot of stuff and FN thought it appropriate that the largest and heaviest box was clothes. It's a long way from the days when I had more books and kitchen toys than Sur La Table. I spent the rest of this weekend alternating between unpacking, sleeping, and cursing the fact that I need a new DVD/CD drive for my laptop. It was a nice weekend in spite of that last part.

Sunday I woke early to a phone call from Jenn, my sister in law. It was midnight LA time so we only chatted for about 30 minutes. Nice way to wake up: happy easter we miss you and love you. Awww.... After I woke up from my 4 hour nap on the sofa (hey! I'm sick!) I pulled myself together, went to brunch and then stumbled into church. The thing about mass in Ireland is that they speak so quickly it often leaves me giggling when I should be concentrating. Honestly, it takes Americans 60 minutes to get thru the mass. It takes the Irish 35 to 40 minutes and only because they speak that much faster than the rest of us. I bet it only takes 15 minutes in Bombay, India. So it was a nice mass; quick, business like, chipper priest. But there were no lillies to be seen anywhere! The symbol of Easter and the alter was filled with white mums and candles that had blown out. Whatever. Maybe I need to donate some lillies next year... They can have a collection for that too! Another difference between US and Irish masses is the collections. Yep, plural. They have 2 during mass, each with a different intent, and then all the eucharistic ministers are posted at the doors so you can contribute to yet another fund on the way out the door. I know the Irish are know for their charity but geez... I've never seen a cover charge at a church before. And? This is my favorite part. Remember my observation about how the Irish will queue so tidily for just about everything save the bus line? Ditto for communion. There is no order. It's like a slow moving rollar derby. The best course of action is to wait until the very last moment and then go, otherwise you're gonna get hip checked by some old lady anxious to meet the Lord.

So that was Easter 2006 for me: sleep, giggling in church, moving. And no chocolate. Man. I must have been sick.