You should not eat that.

I am high on cold medicine and making poor choices. Things were going so well. My cold lifted long enough for me to run around the kitchen with a spatula and a dinner glass full of chocolate booze, sautéing onions and clipping artichokes and whisking batter. My mother was medicated to the gills and ready to sit upright and eat when the roast was carved. In the evening we dyed eggs, chucked the kids in bed, and the bunny delivered his baskets of candy, toys, bacon hot sauce, and zombie jerky (regular jerky with green flavor powder on it). Leif woke up at 3am and flipped in bed like a trout until we finally stumbled out at daybreak to put on the coffee. Delight and yelps because - as hoped - the rabbit ate the complimentary carrot. As well as the note.

Things began to take a turn after the chocolate. I gathered an armful of boiled eggs for the traditional eggs à la goldenrod, and the oven burst into flame. We watched it flicker through the tinted glass. Jokes about creamed eggs vs. cremated eggs were made. Mike opened the door and puffed it out, which was anticlimactic and disappointing. I got a pair of chopsticks and plucked out a lump of burnt cheese, and the man made a sad face. I think he wanted to eat it. 

It was a two-hour drive to the airport, and everybody wanted to come. I threw back a dose of Robitussin and sat wedged in the back seat between the boys, eyeballing them for absorbency as my stomach began to turn. Leif had a blanket. Gavin had larger clothing. It was a tossup. As I write this, my cold medicine has suddenly kicked in, and I am squinting and failing to remember where I was going with this. I didn't puke. I will not puke now. Probably.

There were bits about Chinese food, and kissing my mother, and waving her off to her terminal, and then finding myself in Walmart staring up at the birds in the rafters. The man deduced that I was high at this point, and tried to ditch me at Pier 1 while he ran off to a friend's house, but he was foiled by the giant "ENJOY EASTER WITH FRIENDS AND FAMILY, YOU SELFISH ASSHOLES" sign on the store window. This was too bad, as I had decided I wanted to buy a bunch of overpriced couch pillows, dance in the curtain display, and maybe take a nap under a papasan. We made it halfway home before Leif threw up. He handled it well; an unhappy gurgle, a plea to pull over, a neat hurl on the side of the road, a swish with the dregs of my soda, and a stoic nod that he was ready to get back in the car. As we got underway again, I pulled out a stick of gum, and Leif asked for some. Normally this wouldn't fly, but I was doped up and felt sorry for him, so I tore off a piece and handed it over. A moment later, he said, "Here, done," and extended it back to me. This is when something went very wrong in my brain. I looked at the slimy blue wad as he tipped it into my hand, and was unable to remember what I was supposed to do with it. Instead of flicking it out the window or putting it in the wrapper, I thought, "oooh, sweet minty baby kisses!" and PUT IT IN MY MOUTH. The man stared at me. "Did you just -?" "It is really wet. I don't like this." "You know he just threw up and then chewed on that, right?" For some reason, this was a COMPLETE shock to me, and I started laughing like a lunatic, my head on my knees. And I still forgot to spit it out. At home, everyone ate leftovers for dinner, but I peered suspiciously into the gravy container and decided it tasted like mold. So did the lamb. And the Yorkshire pudding. I put it down as sick-person taste buds and went to get my jammies on. Got my toothbrush. Put toothpaste on it. Stuck it in my mouth. Marveled that my sick-buds made the mint toothpaste taste like cinnamon. Realized that something was wrong. Began to salivate uncontrollably. Spit and rinsed and gagged and licked a towel frenetically. SOMEONE had gotten into my scented bathroom oil diffuser and dipped my toothbrush into the scented oil.

It was a holiday of sensations. Horrible, unforgettable sensations. But nevertheless, the sort of holiday that contained just the mess of horror, food, and family that make them worth looking forward to every year. Now with Chocovine.