Well, let's see. I make it another seven inches out there. Of snow, that is. And it's still coming down. So much for the "strappy little sandals" school of appropriate Easter footwear.
In DIH's very earliest days it was common even for kids in huge families like ours to get a new outfit every Easter. This was a nice, dressy-up thing you were only allowed to wear to church. Your "Easter outfit," we were told, hearkened back to the white robes the newly baptized were given in the ancient church. So it wasn't just fashion, it was Tradition.
Then along came Jimmy Carter. Who, you will recall, beat the American economy to death with a crowbar. The highest rates of inflation since the Civil War. That was the end of out family blithely buying al the kids new clothes at Easter for a while. So much so that my baby sister, overhearing my mom use the phrase "Easter outfit" one day, asked what an "Easter outfit" was.
Last week I was in one of my favorite cheapo stores and I saw this flowery, film, springtime colors skirt. Ooh, I thought. An Easter outfit!
Wishful thinking took over. I found it in my size and carted it to the checkout.
"Nice skirt," the veiled Somali girl at the register remarked.
"Yes," I said. "Perfect for Easter."
Our eyes met.
"Well," I added, "maybe not Easter here, but..."
She laughed. "Enjoy," she said.
We were going to have company for Easter dinner but they're all down with flu.
We love Minnesota. We really, really do.
Happy Easter, everybody.