Holiday traditions and really bad poetry

When I was little I made a card for Mama which read, "It may be Easter, but I don't love you any leaster."

Clearly my writing skills were beginning to emerge.

Our Easter morning began with Daughter opening her Easter basket. She showed us all the goodies in her basket. Then she grabbed her stuffed lamb (as in plush, not rack of), and then scurried away to her room sporting a huge grin. Hubs and I love to see her scurry away- a sprint down the hall or to her room with the look of mischief or delight on her face. It reminds us of the joys of childhood.

After church, I finished cooking our Easter dinner. On Saturday, I cooked a ham, boiled eggs for deviled eggs, and prepared a hashbrown casserole. All I had to do was warm the ham, finish making the eggs, and bake the casserole. I also steamed some broccoli, but I don't really count it as cooking.

I had planned to make sweet potato biscuits. As soon as I read all the steps, I decided to make my plain biscuits. I was too tired and did not want to take the chance at a new recipe. (The plain ones were quite tasty, by the way.)

For dessert, we had a pink lemonade cake. I don't usually bake, so making cakes is tricky for me. Give me a main dish or a roast to make any day. Make me measure baking powder exactly and I start to twitch. The cake turned out pretty good, not great. We ate it. (Hey, it's cake.)

Hubs cleaned the kitchen. Bless his heart. I took a nap- a long, pull the covers over my head, nap. It was nearly as good as the biscuits.

In the evening we colored eggs. Hubs, Daughter and I sat at the kitchen table dipping eggs in coffee cups filled with food coloring, and swirling eggs in little bags. It was fun and Hubs will be eating eggs for lunch for the rest of the week.

My grandmother loved to color eggs. I remember coloring eggs with her and then finding them later during an egg hunt in the yard. We didn't hide plastic eggs. We hid real ones and then ate them later. In the South Georgia heat. No one died.

We would come inside the house, and sit down at the kitchen table with our baskets. Mama helped me peel my eggs. I always put a little salt on them. Granny or Mama always made pound cake for Easter and after we had our eggs, we'd each have a slice. Then Granny would eat one potato chip to cut the sweet.

That's right. Boiled eggs, pound cake, and potato chips. An odd combination. But every time I peel an Easter egg and see where the coloring seeped through and colored it pink or yellow or green, I think of Granny. I sprinkle a little salt and take a bite, remembering Easter at Granny's table.

Next year, we're having pound cake for Easter.

And one potato chip for each of us.