When is Easter anyway?

I'm not that much of a holiday follower, unless the shopping facilities remind of of the fact. Baskets and marshmallow peeps are apparently overflowing at the wall-e-world, we dashed past the other evening long enough to set some animatronics in action and spy a mildly disturbing Easter basket collection.

For a religious holiday marking the last supper and Jesus' death, who gives their kid an easter basket containing an arsenal of toy weapons? Obviously someone who has stripped the religion out of the holiday and replaced it with a bunny... who happens to be destined for a stewpot. Kiwww the waabbbiit, kiwww the waabbbitt.

As a kid it never really meant anything more than the last snowstorm of the season. It was inevitable the egg hunt was made slightly more difficult by a foot of snow burying them, with a few colorful surprises appearing on the lawn after the meltdown.

The glint of sun the past few days has reminded me that there might be a spring, I might be able to feel my toes again, or touch them again for that matter after I pull the bicycle out for my post season weight shed. There's nothing like a little vitamin D to boost the mood.

Maybe we need to dose the water with some D. Maybe if the country pulls out of their collective seasonal affective disorder, we will start seeing recovery. Either that or it's wabbit hunting season for us all.