Spring has sprung, y’all!
I KNOW! It’s beautiful outside, huh?
Yesterday, Mama said the Earth is “born again,” but I’m not super sure she knows what she’s talking about. I mean, as far as I can tell, the Earth is a bit of a hippie. I just can’t see her, with all those flowers in her hair and all that bluegrass in her arm pits, fitting in at the First Baptist Church Twice Removed Easter brunch.
But, I started thinking about Springtime and about how the Earth does seem to be re-born every year, and about how Easter eggs and the commemoration St. Patrick’s snakes always come right at the same time, and about how sexual that all seems, and about how pretty all these little buds of flowers are, and about how I was once just a bud of a flower myself, and, oddly enough, so was Gomez, and these were all good, if sometimes confusing thoughts.
But then I started thinking about before my time as a bud of a flower (it was probably the Drambuie), and about how I was once in Mama’s belly, just a little shrimp of a thing. And, as if that weren’t creepy enough, I then found myself contemplating the fact that before I was a shrimp, I was just a tiny little zygote. Y’all know what a zygote is? Well, it’s barely anything at all! It’s just a clump of egg! Egg scrambled with upstream-swimming, salmon-like sperm. Without the toasted sesame seed bagel and dill cream cheese, you can’t even call it breakfast! Oy! I had to shake up three more Drambuie-mosas before I could shake my thoughts away from the horror of being a clump of nothing and back to the horror of being the clump of something I am now.
Today, I’m thinking about none of that. In honor of the second day of Springtime, I’m dyeing chicken eggs red, and hiding them from Gomez. I hid them so well, I’m sure he’ll pass over every single one. Especially if he never stops playing angry birds and actually starts looking for them.
Do y’all think Gomez has a hate-crush on me?