Transubstantiate This, Y'all

Here she is, my friends. I am thinking she will still be beautiful tomorrow and that will be all of the sanctified holiness I'll need for Easter. 

Traditionally, I write a post with my thoughts about religion in it for Easter and specifically how ridiculous and unnecessary I find the whole crucifixion story and when I say "story" I mean "myth." 

You know what? I don't feel like it today. I'm tired. I've had an emotional day and I've been busy too. No one cares what I think about the Easter story and/or sin and/or redemption and/or the ridiculousness of believing that a guy died for our sins which I don't believe in anyway, and that he got put in a tomb and then he came back to life although even his mother did not recognize him at first, and then he arose to heaven where he's hanging out now with his father who is god although Jesus is god too and we're not sure what the holy ghost is but it plays some role in the system which is important. 
Trust us. 
Yeah. 
No.

I got my okra planted today and pulled a few weeds and trimmed up and pulled some of the kale. Then I came inside to get some of the preparation for tomorrow done but before I'd really started, an old friend of ours showed up to bring over a truck and an RV that she needs to sell because her husband recently died. Don't worry. This didn't come out of the blue. She'd talked to Glen and asked him to sell them for her and he said he would. I know that he would do anything to help her and it was so good to see her and at the same time, so hard. She lost her man, her life partner. And I think about how that would feel so often, probably too often, and plead with all the powers that be to let me go first. 
We hugged hard when she left and of course I cried, as did she. For her, for me, for all of us humans who are going to invariably die and leave loved ones behind and especially, for those left behind to mourn. 
"Death. Where is thy sting?" asked Paul, who truly seemed to believe that if we follow the rules he says that Jesus laid down, we will live forever "in Christ" whatever that means and I'm here to say I can't imagine living forever and I don't want to, either. 
I mean, I suppose Christ could be endlessly entertaining but still. Eternity is a long fucking time. 

But look! The bread she is risen. 
And over risen. Dang. That's the challah I've made for tomorrow. I am not a good braider of bread and I have no idea why the loaf got so very puffed up with itself that the braid came undone and split apart. 
Oh well. It'll taste good.

Better than that stuff they serve you in church called the host. Which good Catholics truly believe turns into the flesh of poor Jesus when it goes down their gullets. If, that is, it has been consecrated by the priest. 

Oh look. I wrote about religion. And now I'm even tireder. 

I'm done for now. I promise.

Love...Ms. Moon