Easter is the slowest, most dragged-out holiday of them all. Don’t get me wrong, I love a long weekend as much as the next bogan Aussie, but four days? The shops are closed, cops are everywhere, the traffic is frozen in time (why does everyone go to the national park? What’s so good about it, really? LET ME IN ON YOUR SECRETS), chocolate isn’t even fun by the end and I just want to f#cking sleep. I haven’t written a blog in a while, so here’s a completely random, mostly true, brief-ish diary of my Easter weekend.
I saw both sides of my family this year. On my Dad’s side, we had dinner on Good Friday. It was mostly to celebrate the 71st birthday of my Nanna, which had occurred earlier in the week, but my cousins (who had travelled down from Queensland for the event) completely forgot. Guess they’re out of the will. I AM JOKING, I TAKE IT ALL BACK. Shit happens. Nanna didn’t care. She said she’s just happy to be alive. I don’t know if that’s optimistic or morbid.
It was a good night, actually (surprisingly?). My cousins and I have the kind of relationship where it doesn’t matter if we don’t see each other for a year; we can just pick up where we left off and have the time of our lives together. Fourteen-year-old Jessica, who spent a year at an extremist Catholic school and is a loud, active atheist as a result, gasped in horror when Nanna served roast pork for dinner . . . so we all said a mock grace at the dinner table to repent our sin at feasting on a dead pig (come on, it’s not like WE killed it?) instead of fish, because some 2017 years earlier a Jew was publicly executed. I’m sorry, life’s been tough in recent years; God and I don’t have what you’d call a perfect relationship right now.
But I digress; the night wasn’t bad. Nobody argued. My Grandpa didn’t criticise my major or tell me I’m doing a bludge degree. Nanna only expressed unwarranted fear for my health once (and tried to give me a vix inhaler to take home after I sneezed like once), and didn’t force-feed anyone multivitamins. My sister didn’t get in trouble for farting/burping/giggling/breathing at the dinner table. My cousins and I took a selfie, which I posted to snapchat. My 12 (16) year old friend (this beast) proceeded to carry on about how “hot” and “perfect” my cousin is. It was fucking weird. She wants his social media account details. I do not know how to proceed.
I saw the other side of the family on Easter Sunday. I have to say it was good because my Grandad reads this blog (Hi Grandad 🙂 ). Nah, it was actually pretty lit. Grandma made this incredible trifle (tell her thanks :P). My small cousins are LOUD (like, really loud) but really cute and funny and affectionate and perfect and stuff, so they’re nice to be around. We hit a slight barrier when my brother and his girlfriend were giving the younger kids piggybacks, and my ten-year-old sister took my brother’s “dude, you’re too heavy to lift” as fat-shaming rather than the fact that she’s just too old to be picked up (esp. in Max’s twig arms), which led to a loud tantrum in front of the extended family (got some fresh footage for my meda101 sound project). She got over it, though. There were eggs to be hunted, trifle to be eaten (did I mention it was good?), toddlers to cuddle and play with, and I ate enough chocolate to last me a lifetime (until tomorrow).
I guess it was okay; the whole Easter thing. At this stage of my life I do not identify as religious (nor atheist, but that’s for another blog post) in the common sense, but I’ve found I can celebrate holidays such as Easter and Christmas as times for family and smiles, rather than faith. I still think one day of celebration is enough; is there a need to effectively play the world at half speed (NO SHOPS OR SPEEDING) for four whole days, when non-religious is the second largest religious category in Australia? I think not.