The words tumble in my mind, as if in a snow GLOBE. No matter how I shake them, they fall at random, no patterns emerge, no inspiration to be had. I feel as if my own mind has played a PRANK on me, as it was my brain that set the CHAIN of words in motion. A most peculiar SNAFU!

Georg’ann

Given past celebrations,
It was natural for my expectations to ARISE.
There was a mythos to maintain that I would create some marvelous, seasonal elegance served with sparkle and elan, even if only weaving that magic for myself.
I got out the shiny red STAND mixer from the closet and set to work creaming butter and sugar.

While it whirred away, I enjoyed a small SNACK of leftover lentil balls with lemon and buttercruch lettuce to sustain my energies. It was too early to pop the champagne, though my mind was giddy thinking of the addition of pear brandy and the single sugar cube that increased the effervescence a hundred fold, so many bubbles rising up the glistening flute.

Mid reverie, my daughter sent a series of photos and texts asking for my assurances that her dough was indeed rising. She wanted no SNAFU in carrying on the 19 step traditional Easter braided bread for her own celebration. Throughout the morning and mid day we continued periodic exchanges until the final photo of the glazed glory had been sent.

Having come from 5 generations of broken mother-daughter bonds and having had no traditions handed down to me, in every way she is my resurrection story.

Heather