Easter weekend was wonderful, but it wasn’t without its moments. Moments of angst. That’s the way life is. For the record, here are some things that could have derailed our enjoyment, if we’d let them.
First, we broke a little Belleek pitcher used for cream. It was an heirloom from my Mother’s home, and it had lived with me twenty years. Who knows how long it had lived with my Mother, but it’s safe to say the word ‘heirloom’ applies.
It was resting from its duties on the counter when I inadvertently knocked into it. Smithereens were the result. We spent a moment in remembrance; and, if Earl had his way, it would have been an entire mourning service. But I’m of the opinion that you need to use things; otherwise there are no memories to outlast them.
Moving on, my less heirloom-y and more contemporary meat thermometer died at a most inopportune moment. That would be the one where I needed to test the entre. So I did it with a knife and fork, cutting into the turkey to see if it was no longer pink. That’s how we did it years ago.
And, finally, my resolution to eat carefully and healthily came crashing down even before the Easter dinner started. This is because we began eating in earnest when Chris arrived for the weekend two days earlier.
Still, I wouldn’t change a thing. The Belleek can probably be replaced, as can the meat thermometer. And the scale, which didn’t break, reminded me that I need to return to healthy eating if I want to return to my former weight. It’s all good.
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