Happy Holy Week

While Carolyn thought the Mr. Easter Bunny was pretty rockin', Penny was pretty traumatized. So, no pictures of her screaming to get away. Not this year.

Well, just a week until Easter. We are especially busy this year, for reasons I will outline in a moment, so I won't be blogging this week. This weekend also was pretty busy for reasons I will outline shortly.

This weekend:
• I ran 10 miles. Yeah for me. It was a little slower than I would have liked, but I felt great for most of it, which is a big improvement over a few weeks ago.
• This year's Easter egg hunt was just one long fiasco. The things we took away from this experience were that nice spring weather makes people come out in huge numbers, parents of small children are not immune from jerkiness and six plastic eggs. It was chaos, but still fun.
• Carolyn had FOUR shots on Friday. What a trooper. She came through OK, but I had made more than a few promises, thankfully, I was able to see through. That meant a trip to Toys R Us (Carolyn got the game Operation, which is both very annoying and super awesome), lunch at her favorite restaurant and an inaugural trip to Chuck E Cheese. My head still hurts.

This week:
• There will be more than a few hours spent in church for my upcoming confirmation, including a mass Good Thursday (*see note) where I will have my feet washed by a priest. That shouldn't be at all awkward.
• I'm working on deadline on a story, which I put off until my busiest week of the year.
• Penny starts swimming lessons this week. Fingers crossed, she seems really excited about it.
• I still have to get to the store for Easter presents. That big stupid rabbit isn't bringing candy, but rather very specific gifts that require his staff to run all over town. Stupid rabbit.

And just as an aside, Steve thinks it's really funny to play the theme to Doogie Howser M.D. while I write my blog. Happy Holy Week!

(*Note: My dear friend Jazzy Joe pointed out Thursday is called Holy Thursday, not Good Thursday, making me a bad Catholic. I'd argue that I was drunk when I wrote that so I was well within the parameters of Catholicism. Come talk to me when a priest washes your feet.)