A Spicey Easter

The forecast was predicting a 94% chance of a sweat pant-wearing,
no-showering-style Easter, likely lacking the usual Easter-style
fixin's (as that would have required a trip in the car to the grocery
store). In fact, the Easter bunny didn't even get her shit together
until just before noon, for the poor 3-year-old in the house ("Oh,
look, he must have come while you were intent on that Sponge-Bob
episode, Noel"....Well, actually she never really asked *why* the
basket of overflowing chocolate appeared...she's not one to look a
chocolate gift-horse in the mouth.)
But despite the best statistical method prediction analysis you could
buy, the odds were proved wrong. The neighbor called in the
mid-morning (OK, way before any adult without a 3-year-old would ever
conceive of waking up on a Sunday, but, mid-morning for me) and kindly
asked us over for Easter dinner at 1 pm.
So we did it. We went over for dinner with the neighbors that reside
on either side of our house (the food was a collaborative effort,
well, except for my help). There were kids jumping/playing video
games, men planted on couches, women in the kitchen, and dogs roaming
for scraps and licking the unsuspecting child: it was the usual
holiday setup. We watched movies, ate food, had conversation, ate more
food, bundled up leftovers to eat later, and zoned out. We had the
Easter favs: a ham, some smelly lamb, and potatoes, followed up with
pie and ice cream and sprinkled all over with chocolate Easter eggs and peeps.
The thing that I really hadn't planned on however, was the dinner
conversation. It started our harmless enough, with the discussion of
an upcoming holiday to FL and the newest renovations on the respective
houses. But suddenly it veered and before I knew what had happened,
the conversation had drifted into an area that had never graced my
ears at a dinner table, much less for a religious holiday. Yay,
Jesus...wanna bang? Swinging became the hot topic, and I don't mean
at a playground. Everything from the other neighbors on the street
that were already engaged, to the future possibilities-involving said
dinner mates. I could tell from some reactions that I was glad *not*
to have a visual in my mind of the other neighbors who were already at
it. And for those too young to fully comprehend the discussion at
hand, an unabridged dictionary was procured to clearly define
"swinging." Yow, it was gross. I'm not sure how my stomach didn't
just immediately reject it's contents, in hindsight. But, in some ways
it was a very educational experience. Curtains for my windows stepped
up in priority from "cute decoration accessory" to "goddamn
imperative." Bye now....gotta hit the closest Bed, Bath, and
Beyond.....