The power went out before the potatoes were done. Jon turned on the grill in the garage and we cooked them through from there. We did the same for the brussel sprouts and carrots and thank God, the time change, even with the clouds overhead, gave us plenty of light for our midday Easter dinner.
We were up early for the sunrise service, then off to church early for Easter worship at nine. It was us, the Utters, Donneta on the organ and Wayne was the elder on duty. Sam did the readings, Jesse lit the candles, I sang a song and Joey was off camera. Wayne manned the carillon that rang out to the town and then we went live before the power went out.
There was ice on the windshield when we left to go back home. The van doors were frozen so the boys got in the car through the rear door holding an Easter lily we took from church and my guitar I didn’t bother putting in its case.
I had been up since 3:30am unable to sleep. That’s a thing I do every other day more than not. I get up in the darkness and drink coffee by myself which, yesterday, gave me a chance to get the ribs done nice and early.
I made cream scones, cut up strawberries, sliced potatoes, made the roux, set the table with the good china, got the candy, lit the candles, lost the power, wore my slippers, drank the champagne, whipped the heavy cream, played the jackbox, loaded the dishwasher, put on the coffee, served the dessert, and then couldn’t anymore right around 5:15pm.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t wish for something different. Maybe I was resigned or too busy or both. The week before was harder, the working the Sunday morning shift feels complicated. I want my twitter friends who don’t know me at all to see me in 40 characters and a selfie holding a mug. I like joking out of context, I like being a stranger, I like escaping the present and walking through that weird door. They don’t care if I’m working, they don’t care if I’m crying, they have no expectation of me outside the bubble. It’s true, I like strangers more than my friends sometimes. I like being a stranger more than a friend sometimes.
So we’ll try this again now that it’s Monday. I’ve got a few things in place that will help me, I think. I’m asking for help in a way I can handle, I’m shopping for shoes so my foot will get some relief.
Do you remember that show from back when the makeover was everything? That one where the girl gets the lypo and plastic surgery and goes on a diet in hiding for 8 weeks? That’s what I should be doing. This time feels rife for the reno, but instead I’m getting by on my cell phone and and pithy vaporous tweets.