You Don't Know Something Stinks Until it Smells

The first week of Spring is coming to a close, even though it roared in like it was Winter saying it was going to stick around another week.

I refused to let that get the best of me. Just because I can’t lay out by the pool or go running in the sunshine right away doesn’t mean it’s not Spring.

For whatever reason, I’m particularly excited about this year’s Spring. 

All I can think about is Beatrix Potter, Peter Rabbit, and having tea parties in rooms surrounded by tulips and girl friends wearing pastel Easter Springy-dresses! 

It might be throwback to my childhood, but I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that my guest room is starting to look like the Easter Bunny’s Workshop. First of all, the bed spread is very spring-like with all the flowers on it. Secondly, I have pastel post-it notes marking which card and gift goes to which person. Third, I can’t seem to stop myself from gathering up little books, magnets, lotions, and candies for a list of people.... (Yep, made a list, checked twice or so already) who are on the recipient list.

It’s all part of bringing back good mail. It’s a campaign I’ve been on, mainly because I’m tired of getting just junk and bills in my mailbox. I’m sure you are too. Just saying.

Going to the mail box now is like an Easter egg hunt. You don’t know if there’ll be a surprise when you look tomorrow! 

For all the good things that Easter and Spring can bring, one lesson from my childhood really stinks. Or, sticks out. Honestly, you don’t know something stinks until it smells!

One year my Dad hid eggs all over the house, the backyard, as well as jelly beans. I seem to recall finding jelly beans and eggs for days after Easter. Maybe even a week. Once they were all collected some of the multi-colored sugar-shaped eggs were hard and nearly broke my teeth off. I’d also had about seven egg-salad sandwiches a day - and I had moved on. I was ready for Summer. 

I don’t know exactly when it was, but we had gone somewhere, and when Mom, Dad, and I arrived back home, we opened up the front door and..... Blast.

Damn. It stunk. It stunk like a sewer on a hot summer day near the Salton Sea. 

So, what happened? Dad stuck an Easter egg in Mom’s china cabinet. The egg, mind you, had ideas of its own. It didn’t want to stay put. So, it exploded all over that thing. Dad had to cart the china cabinet, dishes inside, into the garage, empty everything out, scrub it down, and in the process decided to cut two inches or so off the height of the china cabinet.

Mom was not pleased. I don’t think this was the kind of Spring renewal she was hoping for.

I’m telling you, you don’t know something stinks until it smells. 

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How about you? Do you have a memory from Easter that taught you a lesson? Or when was the last time something really had a stench? What was it?