Santa Skeleton reborn as Skeleto Bunny...
Creepy, yes, but stuffonmycat.com has the subversive-cute front covered!
And I wonder why the inlaws think I'm wierd.
Funny, this year I haven't had any cravings for chocolate bunny ears or any other bits. I don't know if that is because I have almost daily doses of very good quality 70% + chocolate and face it, most Easter chocolate is of awful quality. The only exception I ever had was last year when we picked up some Jacques Torres chocolate in New York. And then it was still not satisfying because I had a big urge to eat the whole thing, about 8 oz, in a flashback of Easters past, and that would just start me rolling down the hill to binge-dom. Doling the bunny bits over several days was quite unsatisfying as the inner monster would just roar "moooore!", and I ended up taking the remains to work at the greenhouse for the ravening hoards (mostly my boss, actually!) to devour. Getting rid of it just made my life easier.
Growing up, Easter was second to only Hallowe'en in my sugar consumption. Wow, I'm getting a body memory of the buzz now!
One of the interesting, if sad aspects of my life is that I have such strong food memories, the chicken in the basket and flat orange soda Friday suppers at the lunch counter at Zellers, covering a big hatbox with wrapping paper to hold all my Easter candy, carefully stocking my little play kitchen set with all the loot I got at Halllowe'en...and yet other bits of my life memories are MIA. I know that some therapists believe that there is good reason I do not remember parts of my childhood, but there are even parts of my adulthood that are very fuzzy, possibly because I was so deep in my depression and self loathing to actually absorb what I was experiencing. For instance, Fuzz will mention part of a trip to the other side of the world, and I will have to struggle to remember the details.
The exception seems to be if the memory is particularly embarassing or painful, because at many points in my life I seemed to collect bad memories. I think one tends to keep the memories that confirm one's self image or philosophy of their life. Like making a sculpture out of dust bunnies that collect more dust bunnies that would drift along the floor of my psyche and cling to the earlier ones. It was almost as if I was gathering evidence to convict myself. Today, I'm working on the other side of the courtroom, gathering evidence for the defense of my soul and my happiness, but changing the habits of decades takes some real work.
I've always liked this quote from Carolyn MacKenzie:
"If you have a skeleton in your closet, take it out and dance with it."
It's our choice. It can be the wellspring of our art or our madness.
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