Eastering

As an atheist, celebrating holidays like Easter is always interesting. Jesus was a great dude, but I reject the idea that he rose from the grave. On the other hand, I do gratefully accept the time off I get in appreciation of this feat, however imaginary I believe it to be. Thus, I present to you, Easter at the Olson Ranch.





We decorated cookies liberally with sprinkles. I like to call it "process art".





The end result was met with approval.







Egg dyeing was met with skepticism.





But again, the end result was met with approval.







The next day, we searched the yard for our beautifully dyed eggs that some bastard rabbit hid.









We found them all, and were richly rewarded.



After a fine meal,



Cricket was also rewarded. For not biting anyone hard enough to draw blood.



And please don't try to take her ham bone. She'll get you.

Stormy Weather

Early Sunday morning brought with it stormy weather. You know. That kind of ominous, oppressive air that serves as a harbinger of hard rain and a tornado watch.



But lo and behold, the storm clouds cleared and nary a drop of rain fell.

Baby Face

This is Eleanore.



She joined our family via my brother and sister-in-law on March 27.



Hello, Eleanore.

One Year

I have never liked April Fools' Day.

I am incredibly gullible and easily embarrassed. This combination does not serve a person well, especially in his or her most formative years. My dislike was reinforced one year ago today. One year ago today was the worst day of my life so far.

One year ago today, I lost a job I loved, I lost a friend that I loved and I lost seven little souls that I loved.

That I loved, and that I promised to take care of. Whose boo-boos I kissed, who I played hopscotch with, who I made lunch for every day, whose diapers I changed. Who I sometimes still ache for when I remember how they felt in my arms when I rocked them to sleep.

I debated about whether or not to mark the occasion in any way, let alone publish a blog post for all (four of you) to see. The one year mark doesn't feel as significant as I thought it would. And I think that's a good thing.

Has anything good come of this? Perhaps. I don't know that I am better off than I was, but I'm certainly not worse off. They say (I don't know who "they" are) that after a relationship ends, it takes half the time of the length of the relationship to get over it. Am I over it? I don't think so. I won't presume to say that I loved (love) those kids as though they were my own, but I did (do) truly love them, and strongly. Strongly enough so that I don't think the phrase "over it" will ever apply.

But anyway. One year. What a year.