I Might Be An Alcoholic

Another Easter Sunday, another celebration of our Lord and Savior climbing out of Hell with family and friends and wine. (Side note: Word is telling me that whole thing is a fragment and I guess it is since it doesn’t have a verb, but it’s a complete thought. Maybe if I changed climbing to Savior’s climb Word would like it better.) Last year we had eggs Benedict and asparagus with my parents. This year we had steak and asparagus with my parents, and I had a bottle of Merlot. The reason I know what we had last year is because I looked at last year’s post. I’m doing that more and more. I’m using myself as a reference. Last year I wrote about building an animatronic zombie Jesus and Passover Land. I never got around to it. Grammy bought a bottle of Merlot to serve with Easter dinner. She also got some world class steaks. My mom playa hated on my dad and made him share his steak with her, something about red meat, cholesterol, and heart attacks. I wasn’t really paying attention. I was busy scarfing down my three pound steak as fast as I could before someone tried to take it away from me. I also was the only one to have any wine. It was a classic textbook situation. I had a two glasses with my steak and asparagus. The wine was surprisingly good. Everyone else had water or iced tea. Once we were done eating MJ and LMJ went to take a nap and Grammy, my parents and I sat around and talked about all kinds of things. We talked about politics and genealogy, and I had a third glass of wine and after that it would have been silly not to finish the bottle, so I did. Then I took a nap. I’m calling that a good Easter.