Whither the Kwanzaa Bunny?

You know that multiculturalism in the name of inclusiveness has gone too far when you see a sign advertising a Spring Egg Hunt. That just sounds wrong. I think they must mean "Easter" when they say "spring," but it's hard to be sure. It's a damned set of secular symbols, people. Be reasonable and leave them alone.

In any case, I know it must be time for Easter because my lizard brain is telling me that I want one of those awful Cadbury cream eggs. Gack. Those things are so nasty, they make me choke on their sugary-sweetness, but my dislike does not stop me from wanting. I must be a freak.

Today's weather has been gorgeous, even a little humid. So mark this occasion: the humidity is kind of nice. Anyway, the trees are all greening out and when you walk the street, you're showered with petals from Washington's bevy of flowering trees. It's all very nice, especially considering that my allergies aren't bothering me this year.

That's right. I got a single good side effect from all the immunosuppressant meds I've taken since the transplant: no more allergies. I just love that. Allergies have made every spring a misery for me starting when I was five or six. Prednisone has cleared that right up.

I wouldn't recommend prednisone to anybody who didn't need it for other purposes, as it can have some nasty side effects, but if your doctor says you need steroids for your allergies, you might not want to reject that suggestion out of hand. I did that last year because I didn't know any better and because the list of side effects scared me.

The upshot is that as long as I can stay healthy--right now that means not dizzy all the time--I can enjoy the springtime with its blooming flowers and budding trees. Aaaaaah.

My girls also enjoy their springtime. They spend more time out in the back yard than they did last week, this is despite the presence of large, curious dogs in the yard next door.

Our plan for this weekend is to tidy up the back yard, which hasn't been done in about three years, as far as I can tell. I have to get some gardening gloves to make this happen. The back yard is part of the overall cleaning plan that I've been working on this week. The preparatory stage is taking longer than I thought it would, but I believe that having a detailed plan will make the execution stage go faster than it might if I were cleaning at random.

If it works--my plan, that is--I will share it with you. If it does not work and I continue to share my house with dust bunnies the size of cats, you will never hear of my plan again.

Now I am off to get one of those eggs, which I will not enjoy. Stupid, stupid me.

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