I cannot, for the life of me, eat any more tuna or olive oil. Physically and mentally, I just can't.
I have heard, on more than one occasion, Spaniards complaining that the US and A doesn't know how to properly categorize them. Don't they have more important things to worry about, take for instance their recently conquered level of twenty percent unemployment? I guess not.
Moving right along, Easterpalooza.
Let us move to the situation room for a quick debriefing.
We have an affinity for Easter egg hunts, it is our most prized tradition. We are, and will always be, the oldest and most proud hunters on the whole block. And probably in the entire country for that matter. When I decided to spend a semester in Barcelona, one of the most Earth-shattering realizations was that I would miss the hunt. Luckily, Mom wouldn't stand for that. She put a quick halt to ALL Easter celebrations; this meant not only the hunt but baskets as well. My siblings were like deprived little orphans on Easter day. But, this can only mean one thing: Mom is ransacking all the post-Easter candy sales, hoarding pounds of Lifesaver Bunnies and pastel M&M's.
On June 4, the Thomas children will go to bed with more anticipation than a four-year-old on Christmas Eve. In fact, our Christmas ritual will likely carry over to this coveted event. Jules will set her alarm and wake the rest of us up before the sun even considers rising. Jules, RJ and I will find Gabe sitting at the kitchen table, smirking, because he couldn't wait to open his basket full of Bubble-Yum and Star Wars paraphernalia. We will scold him for betraying us and then proceed by terrorizing our own Easter baskets. We will then wait painfully until Mom and Dad slink out of bed.
Next, we'll all congregate on the back porch, waiting for Mom and Dad to give the go ahead on the hunt. Jules and I will ridicule RJ for peaking at all of the glorious eggs poking out from among the trees and dog bombs, and then again for snatching all of the most obvious eggs that we left for Gabe. RJ will inevitably win the hunt by stealing all the easiest eggs. I'll be tripped up by one last camo egg that mom hid in the drain pipe near the road and Jules and Gabe will battle until the end for the last golden egg. Blood will be shed. There has been talk of Mom and Dad pelting water balloons at us meanwhile, as an added challenge.
This my friends, is how Easterpalooza will play out on that fateful day, marking the first annual Easter massacre.