As if the usual pagan fertility rites and Peeps weren’t sacrilegious enough, CCB and I forewent the traditional Easter egg hunt Sunday to hide and hunt for beers around the house. I suppose I should be trying harder not to look like a hillbilly, but I’m having too much fun to care.
Where did the Easter bunny hide that beer?
In the oven, of course.
Is CCB hunting the beer, or is the beer hunting CCB?
If it were a snake…
We also fixed mimosas using oranges picked right off our very own tree, and then we barbecued dinner. An Easter Sunday spent under the sun. I need more weekends like this.
Our mimosas mis en place.
Unsuccessful after standard procedure, CCB attempts to open the champagne using a technique that I do not endorse.
Does it get any better?
And I just got an extremely flattering invitation to help with Planned Parenthood’s Safe Sex event, taking place in the fall. Maybe I can be a proper gala-planning Sarasotan after all. Perhaps the planning committee would be interested in a Safe Sex condom hunt. No? Oh, well.
CCB and I at a recent Planned Parenthood event.