Hippity, Hoppity


HamThis weekend the Nannykins, Papakins, Madre, Schnookie, Sister-In-Law and Nephy-Niece are coming for Easter. Originally we volunteered because our new house was such a nice place for everyone to meet and the G’parents hadn’t been up to see it yet. That and we were very excited to make our very own Easter dinner of whatever the heck we wanted. None of this slaving for hours in a hot kitchen for a large chunk of meat and some potatoes. Delicious and all but we wanted to do something that wouldn’t require so much time in the kitchen. We were going to go non-traditional with Indian Tacos or spaghetti & meatballs but then I got cornered by the Nannykins. In her kitchen. On her turf. The weekend she told me they were moving to a retirement community. She def had the advantage.

Nannykins: Honey, can I buy a ham for you to make on Easter?

Me: … uh … *visions of Indian Tacos dancing in my head*

Nannykins: I just love Schwabs hams and I just really want to buy this so we can have a really nice meal.

Me: … uh … ok. *visions of pigs STOMPING on my Indian Tacos*

Nanny: *big hug*

What could I have done? The woman is a mind sorcerer! So I waited a couple days and broke the news to Husbando who was a champ and took it well. He said at least we could make the sides our own and feel like we were still cooking for everyone at our new house. Until I go this call:

Nannykins: Honey, listen. Can I bring coleslaw for Easter?

Me: … uh … sure.

Nannykins: Oh and your mom is going to make scalloped potatoes. And I’m bringing the corn. Can I bring anything else? You need anything else? Am I being bossy? Am I taking over? Honey, you just tell me if I’m taking over.

Me: You’re taking over.

Nannykins: *laughter* Oh honey, I just love you. You’re so sweet. See you in a couple weeks! *click*

So I called Madre and was like oh my gosh mom Nanny is totally taking over Easter and why didn’t you tell her to chillax and she was all like yeah right she is my mama and I know better. Fast forward a couple weeks and the ham is delivered to me. Ham is not the right word really. Hog is the right word for this EIGHTEEN POINT ELEVEN POUNDS OF MEAT. Luckily we have a big roaster.

So at our first Easter we are in charge of rolls, deviled eggs and putting this hog in the oven. I think we can handle that : )






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