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Quit Hopping on My Head

The Easter Bunny kicked my ass. Hard.

We had Easter dinner a day late, because several of us were going to see Dame Edna at the RVT on Sunday. Everybody flaked and no one got to hear this year's pagan fertility rite jokes. Oh well.

So I popped two legs of lamb (not sure if they were from the same sheep, but they tasted pretty much the same) in the oven, crusted in garlic, thyme, rosemary, cumin seeds and some butter. My first time cooking lamb. So easy. That along with roasted potatoes and a charming melange of cauliflower and broccoli made for a perfectly lovely lunch. No ham and scalloped potatoes on this Easter table, no siree.

I was expecting 8-10 people, but several of the invitees flaked (pattern much?) and we were only 5. Cocktails before dinner. Wine with the meal and then more drinking. Three people showed up late and mayhem ensued. Did you know that a leather harness goes nicely with an African kikoi?

So the question remains ... how does a party of five (which then becomes a party of 8) go through 10 bottles of wine, 1.5 bottles of Sauza Hornitos, several bottles of Stella and a half-liter of vodka.

My head hurts.