Daily Plate: Easter Brunch

I went to visit my family in New Jersey for Easter. We had a pretty low-key day. In the morning, we visited my paternal grandfather at the rest home he lives in and then met my maternal grandfather at his country club for Easter brunch. I’m not exactly the country club type, but I covered my tattoo and wore heels and tried not to curse. Ironically, I worked as a server at a country club in Massachusetts, so I have some experience in cleaning up nice.

The vibe was pretty mellow, and I was happy to be sitting between my sister and Chris, sipping a glass of champagne in a sunny room. Julia pointed out an employee dressed as the Easter Bunny who was passing out plastic eggs to the kids. When I worked at the club in college, I had to dress up once as an elf for a Christmas event, so I could sympathize.

As my sister and I were chatting a few minutes later, I felt a big furry presence hovering above me. So I turned around, and there was the Easter Bunny, motioning for me to grab an egg from the basket. My nine-year-old cousin had just taken one and was happily unwrapping the chocolate inside. Seriously? I know I look like a teenager, but I was drinking alcohol. In a movie, my character would have downed a shot of whiskey before reaching into the basket, just for effect.

The Easter Bunny was clearly not budging until I took my egg, though, so after a moment of hesitation, I reached in and grabbed a green one. The roaming rabbit moved on.

Being that I’m in my mid-twenties and have been dealing with this for years, you’d think I’d be used to these kinds of situations, but they crack me up (if they don’t annoy me) every time. It took me, Julia, and Chris a while to stop laughing.