Easter Sunday - Vodka and Garlic

After just receiving a rather unexpected rebuff by the parents of Miss Chris at the audacity of not having called them to wish a happy easter on easter sunday, no, not today, that's too late, I must say I feel somewhat clueless of what I may have done wrong. I love chocolate easter eggs, I used to love making easter stuff back in the days - like 20 years ago (ouch, I AM old), but I always avoided having to go to church and I have probably spent as many times celebrating passover as I have easter while at university if and when those two holidays fall on the same weekend. It has completely slipped my mind that it's a big deal back in the homeland and a big deal to the parents of miss chris. I am a bit torn between feeling like I should apologize, if nothing else for hurting someone's feeling, and staking my claim to the world of someone approaching the end of their 20s who sees easter as a long weekend to engage in the following activities none of which have any resemblance of what the mother of miss chris may have expected: Good Friday: A day to meet up with a photographer in my area, who does the most awesome, spooky portraits of people who hang out in the coffee shops or who run the little stands of Portobello market and who was so kind to lend me one of his super duper expensive lenses. Unfortunately his pictures are still better than mine, but I take that as inspiration.Better Saturday: Focus on doing very little and some photography with fancy lens and follow that up with pierogis and vodka shots. Sort of goes back to the roots I guess. Easter Sunday: Excessive pub lunch followed up with a march through Soho bars and too drunk to care Chinese food to round up the evening. The result of that can be summed up by the attached photograph. Easter Monday: Another day of focusing on doing very little, but staying off the booze and finishing romance novel 400 of the year while consuming easter candy by the fistful, considering replicating the vodka honey concoction of Saturday. I guess nowhere in that plan is there much space for easter egg painting and solemnity of any kind. Worst of all, I don't even remember what I would have been supposed to be doing in the first place, other than calling the parents of miss chris that is. And on Sunday, not Monday. I guess these little things, although annoying, don't mean too much to me, so I might as well just remember to do them, because they do seem to mean a lot to someone else. Well, off I go to make that  vodka honey and keep your fingers crossed for newly acquired husband. More on why later when I don't feel like I am jinxing it. 

P.S. Can someone explain to me why every time I try something as daring as paragraph breaks the whole blog neatly divides itself into random sections all in different font? So unfortunately the only other option is one large chunky run-on thought paragraph.