Easter Weekend

My college friend was in town visiting for Easter, providing an excuse to live a less lethargic life. We started Friday night off with some District of Pi deep-dish pizza, then a birthday party. Those are still fun when you are old. They are even more fun when you are celebrating older friends.
After sleeping in, I hit the ground running Saturday. The rest of the weekend followed suit, aside from the two episodes of trash television I was pinned down for in the afternoon. There were pedicures to be had, gourmet sandwiches to consume, a commute out to my parents, dogs to be walked, more fuel—in the form of over-sized hamburgers at Melt, my absolute favorite stop for quick-ish, greasy food in Northern Virginia, and cinnamon roll dough to be started. I essentially rose and repeated the eat-exercise-eat-activity frenzy on Sunday.

This was Easter, according to my photographs. The table décor caught my eye—and camera’s attention.

So simple and pretty. So easy. So not trying too hard.

(I am (and feel) old. Very old. I am detailing table arrangements on The Blog.)

The arrangement channeled early spring, appropriately so, as spring is just now finally springing in the metropolis of Washington, D.C. Though it’s late April, pastels would have been too warm for this occasion; navy and burnt orange worked.

(I was not disappointed the color pallet was that of my dear ol’ Clemson Tigers either.)

There was a lot more to Easter (beyond the one photograph captured). And Easter Weekend in general. Those plates were later filled with the hard work of Mom and Pop—lamb, rice pilaf, lemon roasted potatoes, green beans, spinach salad, and Sister Schubert rolls. Sister Schubert rolls because we—friends and family—needed a third starch. And for dessert—my contribution, there was banana pudding. Before dinner, we brunch’d on strata, cinnamon rolls, and fruit salad. There was also tons of Easter candy to snack on throughout the day, of course.

This weekend I made the sad realization I fall into the ‘run to eat’ category and not the reverse despite grand attempts to live a consistently healthy life. I assured Mom we needed Sister Schubert rolls because duh. And I ignore the ingredient list—including two cups of butter and sugar—when I pound cinnamon rolls like a champion.

I did not start the week as rested as I might have liked, however, my heart (and stomach) were certainly happy.