This week, Wendy at On 'n On 'n On kindly awarded the
Bald Faced Liar Creative Writer Award to moi. The typical thing to to with this award is to list 7 things about myself, with six of them lies and one of them 100% true. I'm going to turn this on its head, and list six things which are true, with only one of them being a lie, and I'm going to take it up a notch - all of them are going to be about Easter. You need to guess which one is a lie, and I will give you the answer on Good Friday.
- I have been the Easter Bunny, and while in costume I had the Cadbury Eggs kicked out of me by a bunch of violent fourth graders. One of them inadvertently felt me up while trying to see if The Easter Bunny had 'candy' in her pocket. ( I know, this one is a gimme since I wrote about it yesterday, but c'mon, I have to come up with six things!)
- My sister was a big believer in Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street, so instead of visits from mystical creatures like Santa or the Easter Bunny, my family was visited by Oscar the Grouch, who was actually my Italian neighbor in a green fur suit in a garbage can outside of our door.
- Easter Sunday 1979. Our black Labrador Retriever, Mandy, brought a rabbit to our doorstep, dead and gutted. My sister and I woke up, saw the bloodied, dead rabbit on our front step, and were immediately and permanently traumatized. My sister started screaming at Mandy, "BAD DOG! BAD DOG! You killed the EASTER BUNNY!"
- At my grandma's house in Iowa, dyeing eggs was a huge production. My grandparents lived on a farm and had their own henhouse, so we would gather the eggs from the henhouse and bring them into the house to boil and then dye. After dyeing our eggs, we would have a big Egg Hunt in the yard, and get hopped up on candy. My cousin Yvonne was running through my grandma's living room and dropped her Easter basket, only to find that her dyed eggs somehow never got boiled, so her raw eggs broke on Grandma's beige carpet, and then the bitch blamed it on me. Of course, everyone believed her.
- My mom was a good cook, but could be inattentive or forgetful when cooking. One year, when all of my Mennonite relatives were coming for Easter, she forgot to defrost the ham when she should have, so she resorted to thawing it under running water in the sink (this was before we had a microwave), and then getting it into the oven quickly. All of the side dishes were done, and she figured the ham was done enough to serve. Oh how very wrong she was. I think 10 of the 18 people there ended up with varying degrees of trichinosis (or roundworm) from undercooked pork, with the most prevalent symptom being diarrhea. We had three bathrooms. Things got ugly. It is the Easter Ham that lives in infamy.
- When I was a reporter for the North Liberty News, I was to report on a re-enactment of The Last Supper at a local church. I did the story, interviewed various apostles, and got ready to take pictures. They were in the middle of rehearsal, and I slunk down the aisle, trying to be unobtrusive. I put the camera up to my face to see the shot, sat down, and immediately realized I had just sat on Jesus's thorny crown, which would be used later in the production. The show went on, but for a brief, memorable moment, I felt Jesus's pain.
- Easter, 2003. I was very heavily pregnant with Youngest Daughter, and we attended Easter services at our church. My other kids were 6 and nearly 4 at this point, and they hadn't asked much about how the baby got in Mommy's stomach. In the middle of the Easter service, The Son (mine, not Mary's) leaned over and said, "How DID the baby get in your tummy Mommy?" I whispered to him, "God put the baby there". He thought about this for a moment. He looked up at the front of the church, where Pastor Frank was talking about Jesus, and how he was the only begotten son of God. A light bulb went off, and The Son looked at me and said, out loud, "PASTOR FRANK PUT THE BABY IN YOUR TUMMY?"