A belated happy Easter. It didn’t quite sneak up on me, but it also kinda did. Kate, her boyfriend two other friends came over for brunch. One of us was a vegan, so that was a challenge, but extra-firm tofu can be dressed up a million ways. I made frittatas for the five non-vegans, a bunch of sweet potato hash with the tofu, fried potatoes, a nice Meyer lemon cake. It was fine. Food is never the most important part of a party; the company is. It was good company, and we had a nice time.

I did, anyway.

But I did fall asleep on the couch after everyone left, or at least dozed while watching “Michael Clayton” for the twelve thousandth time.

God, I remember holidays when they were the occasion for a genuine unplug, especially one that falls on a weekend, but we can’t do that anymore, can we? Not if you want to be a conscientious citizen:

That guy could ruin… anything. I don’t even have a metaphor. And yet, here we are, surrounded by cowards and toadies and hand-wringers, and somewhere out there is a monster who will assume the weight of that straw and, back broken, start planning — or stop planning and start implementing — a plan to damage as many Americans as possible. But the shithead will be cosseted behind layers of security. Someone else will suffer, and he won’t care. It’s just how he is.

So I don’t have much for you today. Let’s wait for Real Spring to arrive and hope for the best.