And That’s Why I Don’t Eat Raisins

April 24, 2011

My brother and I were lucky. We always got two Easter baskets. We got one from the Easter Bunny at home, and then we’d go to our Grandmothers house down the road, and get another. That E. B. was better than Santa. I remember standing outside her front door, she had always set the stage, theater of the mind so to speak. There were convincing muddy foot prints on the front door, and grass trails that led us more or less straight to our baskets. One year there were raisins outside meant to look like bunny crap. I’m pretty sure they were raisins.

Happy Easter!

and on the back of the picture I found this…

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One Response to “And That’s Why I Don’t Eat Raisins”

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