Poor Easter Bunny

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Happy Easter! (If you celebrate. If not, Happy Sunday!)

I think the big question here is, did the Easter Bunny make it to our house, on time, this year?

Yes, this is an actual question in our household.

Folks, he’s been late before.

I know!

What?!

Don’t look at me!

I can’t control a giant bunny!

And, as I have explained to my children, Santa is spoiled. There. I said it.

Well, he is!

He has a troop of little creep creatures elves doing all of his work for him. A team of reindeer to cart his belly full of jelly (no judgement here. I have one, too. Just replace jelly with wine, and we are practically the same person) around the entire world.

And, let’s not forget his biggest luxury.

His sleigh.

Does the poor Easter Bunny have any of that?

No!

He just has to keep hoppin’ along.

All by himself.

Delivering eggs.

Yes. Eggs. Bunnies and eggs go together like… My belly and jelly… I am sure he is just as confused as we are. I mean, the fellow must be a wee bit out of sorts.

Confused, if you will.

So, it’s no wonder that sometimes he is a day… Or two… late to some of our houses.

Who can blame the guy?

Maybe he stopped and took a nap. The urge does run in his family. We’ve all read about his famous whiny little cousin in “The Tortoise And The Hare.”

And his Uncle (incidentally not the father of “The Hare” above), The March Hare from “Alice in Wonderland.”

That dude always thinks it’s tea time.

In that very same story, his Great Grandfather, The White Rabbit, almost ruins everything with his messed up pocket watch, and his silly little excuse of a chant, “I’m late! I’m late! For a very important date!”

Can we all see the connection here?

It could have carried over into The Easter Bunny’s genes.

I mean, why not?

His whole entire family of rabbits have some seriously poor time management skills.

Let’s cut the giant dude some slack.

I know I will.

Poor Easter Bunny.

It’s The Little Things: Small Artwork And I Need Help

Okay. Not necessarily help. I kind of need you to take my side. In a disagreement.

With my husband.

It has been going on for over a month.

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My daughter recently finished these two art pieces. I love them. I think they are so cool. They are pen on burlap. And I enjoy all of the details she put into them. When I look at them, I see the pure joy of a teenager.

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However, I have a dilemma.

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My husband wants to hang them askew. So that one is taller than the other.

Can you imagine what that does to my OCD?

You guys, it can’t happen!

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They will probably go underneath the painting of the vineyard my daughter did in fourth grade.

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There is so much detail around all of the sides, I do not know how to hang them.

But, I do know my heart cannot take unevenness. Especially since I would see these from my place of worship my bed.

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What should I do? Is there any other way or place we can hang them? I think side by side is fine, but they have sat on that chest for over a month, because we cannot make a decision.

Please help!

It’s the little things: well, this painting has little things all over it. But really, I need some advice. I cannot keep walking by these another day.

The guilt.

It.

Is.

Too.

Much.

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And also, he left the hammer in the corner until we could reach an agreement.

It’s been there for over a month!

Things are gettin’ crazy around here!

That hammer is no accident.

It is almost worse than paintings hung at an angle.

Folks.

He’s playing dirty.

And.

I.

Hate.

To.

Lose.

Groovin’

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Sometimes. Well, sometimes you just have to let go. Give into the music. The peace of the day. On days like that, I like to dress the part.

By the way, the only music playing here was the music in my head.

My soul is groovy, Baby.

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Both of these Free People pieces were obtained from Nordstrom Rack for 66% off. I am not linking to the products (I believe the jeans were called Bali Discharge Flare and the top is the Rave On Tunic), because I think they are sold out. And Dude, I bet you can get them on sale like I did.

Which would leave you more money for actual music.

Of course you are always welcome to tune into the music in my head. Don’t let the voices scare you. They are there to set the mood…

At least that’s what they tell me.

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Are there days when you just want to dress a part? When you just want peace?

Right on man! I dig it.

* P.S. I shared this on The Pleated Poppy!

Elf On The Shelf

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Full disclaimer: Yes, I collect gnomes. There is a big difference between gnomes and elves. The biggest one being the smile. Elves are always smiling. It is annoying. And creepy. And devious. I could go on. Gnomes, well, the little guys know how to keep it real. They are grouchy and they don’t mind showing it. With an elf, who knows what is lurking behind that smile?

I hope to never find out.

Did you know I was such a fantasy creature bigot?

If you like your Elf On The Shelf maybe you should not read further. This gnome has a lot to say (in a tongue-in-cheek, please take it in good fun way):

The story:

I called my friend the other night, and as we were talking, the subject of her Elf On The Shelf came up. She was deciding where exactly he was going to show up the next day.

I had a suggestion.

It was outside. It was hollow. It holds disgusting things (which makes it perfect). It only gets picked up once a week (not so perfect).

If you do not know what Elf On The Shelf is, well, you are not alone. I discovered the creepy little guy only three short years ago. I had read about him on some forum and I loved the idea of him. I sought him out…and that is when the nightmares began.

I don’t get it.

I don’t get how thousands upon thousands of households every year host this weird creation. Am I the only one that thinks he might possibly be the scariest thing ever created just a tad bit disturbing?

I will admit I probably would have bought one. The idea is so cute. Right up my alley. Every day, the little elf gets posed throughout the house in various degrees of mischief. The children discover him upon waking up and get excited to see what he is up to.

Cute, right?

But those eyes. And that grin. And those crossed spindly legs…

When a family adopts their elf, they name him and that is when he gets his magic and spies on them all day and then reports their indiscretions deeds to Santa at night. Who knew the jolly red fellow was such a voyeur?

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I like the rules that come with him in a book. There are only two.

I can think of so many more.

1. You cannot touch him.

Um, no problem there.

How about let’s make that a vice versa kind of deal? How about let’s make that a rule?

2. He cannot move while anyone in the household is still awake.

Then, when they are asleep he wreaks havoc.

How many nights do you think I could go without sleep?

Do you think the toothpicks holding my eyes open could be used as a weapon against me?

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So, my husband and I both agreed we would never be buying this monstrosity elf. It was agreed upon. Signed. Sealed. No more discussion.

But we were shopping at Costco the other day. Do you see where this is going?

My husband stopped in front of me. “Do you think we should get one of those?”

I looked to where he was pointing. It. Was. A. Mountain. Of. Elves. On. The. Shelves. (Literally. They were on the shelves.)

Traitor.

“I th-th-thought we agreed that that was n-n-never, ever going to happen,” I stuttered.

“We did. But, look! This one is a girl. She doesn’t look as creepy.”

I looked. Indeed it was a girl. She was smiling. I looked again. They were all smiling.

Shudder.

They thought they had won.

I could see them planning their home invasion.

Not so fast there Ms. Elf! Don’t ya know gnomes trump elves every time.

I grabbed my husband’s hand and led him away from the cute cunning demons creatures.

I turned and smiled back at them in triumph.

I swear I saw one of them wave.

Or maybe it was another gesture…