If you don‘t believe in Jesus or the Easter Bunny, then what in hell do you do on Easter Sunday?

Damn I hate this holiday.

When I was young it meant being dragged into church with new underwear and Mary Jane shoes… (I also had a dress on and usually a form of a hat that made me look like an extremely young Bella Abzug.)

Religion and church in general have always been one of my least favorite things. Growing up Catholic really is rough: Tortured bloody guy, in a diaper, on a cross (!) for a focal point; fat men in dresses gargling some type of chant; heavy perfume and after shave odors in the pews…(maybe that’s why they’re called that?)

I would usually faint which some parishioners thought was my rapture and devotion when in fact it was a way to get out of that building with the mumbo jumbo talk and the body and blood eating talk and then the talk of all talks: the sermon.

Sermons seemed so ridiculous and predictable. If ever there were a sermon that was interesting…like a sermon penned by Mark Twain, I would have stuck around and listened. Instead I could faint on a dime and my old aunt was sure that I had a severe case of the vapors, which I actually might have also had.

So the holiday approaches and I’ve found if husband and I do nothing we feel odd and cheated. We sure aren’t going to any church and we won’t be looking under tables for Easter baskets either. We’ve spent a few Easters working in the yard and grabbing a quick burger at some chain restaurant and what a flat feeling that is.

Ergo, for the past few years, we’ve been orchestrating a friend/family party that has been morphing into a wonderful event – an eat and drink fest with lots of candy as a chaser: a spring Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving, now there’s a holiday I like.

No present giving to anyone for any reason. No expectations of any kind other than eating a meal. No need for special costumes or props. No singing songs around the piano and no “Thanksgiving Music” playing in the background that you’ve heard for weeks and weeks prior to the day. No blow up turkeys (not yet anyhow) tethered to lawns of homeowners with poor taste.

(I say down with the huge blow up holiday characters that, half the time, are pools of plastic, puddled on the lawn – pitiful props popping up in your peripheral vision as you drive down the road hoping one of these monster balloons doesn’t spring free and attack your car.)

Ah yes, Easter – not a holiday I like but the new friend/family party makes the day so much more bearable.

It’s nice to know that some bunny loves you.