Perhaps you heard? Sunday, April 20 was both Easter (as I like to point out, a Jewish fairy tale about zombies celebrated with symbolically ritualized cannibalism. Fabulous) and also the highly unofficial holiday of 420, which for reasons no one knows celebrates marijuana.
I don’t really care one way or the other about either of them, in fact, I had forgotten this was Easter until Friday when I was trying to make reservations for brunch. My biggest complaint on Sunday was that the confluence of both meant that every idiot in town whose driving was impaired either by religious fervor or dope, or both, was in my way. There is an intersection where three streets cross and some buffoon attempting a left turn had some crisis of confidence and just gave up, sitting in the middle, blocking the rest of us. Maybe it was an art piece, there’s lots of those around here.
On the brighter side, the brunch was just charming and included an ice cream cone for dessert and I found a great couch for the New Orleans house.
Also blooming right now is my beautiful, beautiful cereus, so yay for spring and all that.