Les Pâques and Hot Cross Buns

Today's post was supposed to be so much more interesting, witty, and intriguing.  But. After hours of wrestling with my frenemy, "The Internet in Kinshasa", who has repeatedly erased all of my eloquent words and thoughts, I leave you with these photos (the only ones that would load).

There was also a small car-chase episode on the way home from the grocery store this afternoon, that leaves me a bit tired.  Don't worry, I'll tell the story later.  It's a good one.  Which involves Mama YouYou telling Sarah and Adam that "I think Johan is just about to get beat up by an angry woman!" (Don't worry.  No one was injured during the creation of this keepsake memory.)

On a calmer note, here are a few photos from our sweet, simple Easter:

Marbled eggs.  Our teacups will never be the same...

Our Hot Cross Buns.

Hot Cross Buns.  I got in my mind that we must make these little treats this Easter. I had toted back bags of currants from South Africa last Christmas and they needed to be used in a worthwhile manner to justify the effort (and the extra bag I bough to carry them, and other "necessary" foodstuffs back with us to Kinshasa).  I got myself into trouble, however, when trying to be overly thorough in explaining the buns to Elias - who was helping me make them.  Hot Cross Buns have a complicated past, it turns out.  My small helper lost interest when I told him to "hold on, I need to Google this."

So, I sang the song instead.