I hope you had a good Easter weekend. Ned and I went to the cemetery.
Before you go getting all judgy, Jesus spent Easter weekend in a cemetery, as well, so. Get off your high horse.
Ned and I both like to go to old cemeteries. He seems to like to go obsess over how long people lived. "Geez, this guy was only 27. And look: these people had three kids, and not one of them lived to be three. God, that's terrible."
I like to look at cool names on the tombstones for future cat names.
"Are you going to be buried with your real name on your tombstone, or 'June Gardens'?" Ned wondered.
"Maybe both. I'll have myself cut in half and have two markers."
There were a ton of "Wife of" tombstones. "If you never remarry, can we put 'Wife of Marvin Gardens' on your stone?" said Ned, who is already erecting a memorial to his own self.
"Put 'Ex-Wife of Marvin Gardens,' like it's the only thing I ever accomplished," I said. "She managed to drive away Marvin Gardens."
So, the cemetery. Fun for everyone. Also, if anyone puts one single silk flower on me after I've thinned out, Ima haunt you by singing Lovin' You by Minnie Riperton each time you drift off to sleep.
We also went to see a documentary on one of the kids who really lived in the Amityville Horror house. Ned kept insisting this would not be good, and did we really want to see this, and in the preview they show a photo, taken when no children or pets were in the house, yet there is clearly a child standing there with glowy eyes. I kept bringing it up to Ned. "See, there were no children or pets in the house, was the thing, and yet--"
"STOP TALKING ABOUT THAT!" he'd screech, as manly-ly as possible when one is screeching like a girl.
So we went, then I got thirsty in the middle of the night and thought about that damn picture while I was in front of the fridge, and was too afraid to walk back through my house to go to bed for fear a glowy-eyed child would be somewhere.
On Sunday, we got up and colored eggs. Read your BIBLE, judgy. Why do you think Jesus got up so early that morning? He totally promised Mary Magdalene he'd color eggs with her, and you know how cranky she gets.
I totally made an egg for Edsel where I drew an underbite, which by the way isn't easy to draw. If you're me. And Ned made some kind of Nightmare Before Christmas pumpkin thing. Coloring eggs should be an all-the-time activity. You shouldn't have to limit it to once a year. Is my theory.
Once, when I was a kid, my mom and Aunt Mary and I colored eggs, and there'd been a big snowstorm that day because hello Michigan in the spring, so after we were done with the eggs, we took all the dye and threw it on our snowman. It was so totally cool, and that was before one took 36 pictures a day so there is no photographic evidence of it.
By the way, I'm feeling like the Paz Egg Color people are somehow in cahoots with Heinz, as they kept insisting nothing would be better than using Heinz vinegar, and also maybe we want to possibly use Heinz in those famous spring salads we all have, and also if you were feeling not so fresh? How about Heinz and water?! Subtle they were not.
After our eggs, we went to a documentary on terrorism in Israel. Yes, I realize it was a very documentary-y weekend. Yes, I recall I divorced a documentary person for a reason.
Have you thought about using Heinz vinegar while you judge me? It might make it more pleasant.
Finally, when we got back last night after our happy movie, we saw an Easter bunny in the driveway. Naturally we shot and ate him.
You know what we sauteed him in? A little Heinz vinegar.
June, post-Easter. Out.
