The family voted (behind my back) and decided (to vote me of the island?!) that Easter dinner would be at my house this year. I’m ok with it, we’re doing Chinese potluck for a little something different. It means I have to host about twenty people for the evening but it also meant I got to choose the cuisine and as long as I don’t have to eat the dirty bird (foul fowl turkey) it works for me. We are not Asian but we do enjoy the food, who am I kidding, my family likes all food. The boy thinks we should make chocolate sushi for dessert but I am afraid that it might not be proper to combine Asian plates like that.

Our clan is not much for the religious significance of the major holidays, we are all heathens, but we look upon them all as an opportunity to hang out together, nosh and enjoy the company of people who have to like us because they are connected by blood. Easter has always been more about chocolate eggs than anything else and really, is there anything else?!
In fact my memory is getting so bad I could start hiding my own eggs.

I have to work for a bit this morning and then I am heading off to the city. The Boy doesn’t fly in until almost 10pm but I have to get my hair cut and pick up a few groceries for the weekend and then I plan to meet my brother for dinner. We’ll be dining gluten free at the restaurant his wife manages. We had lunch there last weekend and it was delicious and no celiacs were harmed during the eating of that meal. We’re heading home right after the plane lands which means three more hours of driving and a hella-long day for me. I am not complaining though, I’ll never complain about the kid coming home...unless he turns all crack whore junkie or something, I don’t think I’d like that so much.

In a lovely little bit of karmic retribution, The Boy’s boss (who has been a total douche sucker since the kid got there) is being investigated by Immigration Canada. There is a possibility that he is going to be deported. The boy said “Maybe the repo man is coming to get him.”

In the past two years my kid has lived at home, in university residence, with six strangers in Ottawa, with four friends in Waterloo and now with my mom’s cousin in Vancouver. The cousin, Liz, is a mucky muck in real estate, she’s almost fifty years old and she has a beautiful house in a very nice area of the lower mainland. Liz smokes but she never does so in her house so the boy found it hilarious when she had some friends over one night and asked him if he’d mind if they smoked pot in the house. Of course even if it bothered the kid he’d be far too polite to say so. Liz is not chronic by any means but she digs the herb. Last time she had company from out of town they got high and ate the boy’s ice cream. The couple said they are always on a diet and it’s been ten years since either of them had ice cream so apparently all it took was a little munchie inducer to lure them to the freezer and loosen their dairy inhibitions. Tonight a different couple are visiting and again they passed the dutchie and they too found their way to the kids ice cream. I am not a dope smoker and apparently it's a good thing, ice cream calls my name when I am straight and sober, I'd be fucked in ignoring its advances if I was high. What is really funny to me about all of this is that he was not exposed to this in any of his other homes. How ironic is it that the one housing situation we set up for him is the only one with free flowing booze and puff the magic cousin?!

Ok, I gotta go, I have a monster day ahead so I better get on it. Have a Happy Bunny day/weekend!

The rabbit left you some raisinettes!
OoOoOOoo