I love the first day of May because it can mean only one thing…it’s May Day and it means making May Day baskets, filling them with candy, leaving them on a friend’s doorstep, ringing the doorbell and running like hell. Okay, I actually haven’t done that since I was little but I would love to do it again. When I mention this tradition to people, I get a look like I have horns growing out of my head. I get this look often when I refer to things from Nebraska or my childhood. Like the time I asked Holly to hand me a koozie for my beer and she looked at me like WTF??? She politely told me that they refer to them as “huggies” in Illinois and that she had never heard the term koozie before; therefore, I must be nuts. Or, like the many times I ask for a pop and I get the “Oh you poor thang, you must be from the Midwest” response…whatever that means.
I want to know if I’m alone in my May Day haze and if this special little holiday spans other states besides Nebraska. Man, just talking about it makes me want to get out my Styrofoam cups so I can decorate my little heart out. It's too bad my neighbors have security cameras on their house otherwise; I would be ringing doorbells like crazy tomorrow.