Easter 2017: Burned Cross Buns

There is a patch of bluebonnets that pops up every year in front of the gym where our church meets. They were in full bloom about 3 weeks ago. We didn't get a family picture then, and we didn't get one yesterday. Thankfully, there are other ways to celebrate the resurrection.

We continued the hot cross buns tradition. I decided to make the real thing this year. YEAST IS SCARY. We made the dough Saturday night. The recipe told me I could refrigerate it overnight. Only the container I put it in apparently wasn't closed tightly enough, because when I got up early Sunday, there was a YEASTY DOUGH MONSTER oozing all over the middle tray of my refrigerator. I salvaged it, rolled out the dough, formed the rolls, let them rise AGAIN, and put them in the oven. AND set the timer for 30 minutes instead of 20. Sing with me?  Burned cross buns, burned cross buns, cuss cuss cuss cuss, cuss cuss cuss cuss, burned cross buns! Again, salvageable. When will I accomplish feats in the kitchen that don't necessitate words like "salvageable?" There's an Easter metaphor in there somewhere. The kids did their own icing crosses. I refrained from making any metaphorical speeches.

 Our church is going through lots of transition right now, and my friend Carrie still managed an egg hunt. Grandmother Pate made sure everyone had new finery.

 My friends Sarah and Emily used their patience and talent to prepare the kids for a sweet rendition of "Lamb of God." Their voices were accompanied by 8th grader Marco on violin, and 7th grader Daniel on cello. That's a hint of heaven, I am sure of it.

The husband made steaks and asparagus for lunch. He also cleaned up afterwards, while I took a little nap. These are the days, they really are.