We're not big Easter people, or peeps, if you will.  And I think you will.

I'd love to be one of those people who gets dressed in matchy matchy pastels with my husband and meets other fabulous couples for a Mimosa brunch.

I'd love to have nieces and nephews in the same city who I could make baskets for.  My nephew is in California, and he turns 11 in a few weeks.  The kinds of things he wants aren't stuffed bunnies and silly putty and picture books.  He likes money, and gift cards.  These are not fun to shop for.

But we're sans. Sans local family, sans pastels, sans brunch.  And given that I'm not Christian, Church is kind of out for me.

Aside from which, my Easter is Eostre - the pagan celebration of spring.  Heavy on the eggs and bunnies and flowers.  Light on religion.

So, while all my friends share photos of the family looking crisp and clean and cheerful, I throw on my cleanest yoga pants, throw my wild hair into a bandana, and go to O'Reilly's (twice) to pick up car part things for my husband.  Speaking of throwing... Piper ate something that upset her stomach last night, and woke up early, throwing up.  Like, 4AM.  Matt got up and watched The Long Good Friday, which is part of his tradition.  Since it's a movie full of explosions, I had kind of a weird few hours of sleep.

As for my traditions and celebrations, I planted my morning glories.  I replanted my rosemary the other day, and last weekend, I hung two Boston ferns from the front porch.  So, that's my Easter.

To say nothing of all the Easter candy I ate in advance of the actual day.

And, because I still love flowers and fancy meals - I dropped $8 on fresh flowers at Trader Joe's.  We're also having a nice supper of salmon, potato pancakes, green beans and...a key lime pie.  There's wine, should we want it, and grapefruit soda, should we not.

Because I celebrate everything, in some way.

Even your otherwise non-celebratory Sunday.

Happy Spring, y'all.