Another successful holiday
is in the books.
My sister has come down
from Maine so we can deal with some semi-unpleasant family business; not a
wonderful way to spend the Easter holiday, but certainly a way to get some
brownie points for when we face the Great After-Life Accountant in the Sky.
Once we are done with the
business at hand, we are left to squander the remainder of a beautiful yet
blustery day. We could take a walk, but
both of us are wearing impractical shoes.
Very impractical shoes. Easter
shoes.
Fortunately for us, I am a
planner. I am the one who showed up to
the Christmas gift exchange meeting place (Panera) with a Cribbage board and a
deck of cards. I am the one who packed
plenty of single-serving mini-bottles of wine when we went on a three-day car
drive out of state.
I am the one who boils a
dozen white eggs and has white vinegar and food coloring. I am the one who stockpiles the kids’ old
crayons.
We are dying Easter eggs
this afternoon.
Oh, sure, there are all
kinds of new-fangled ways to dye eggs – oil, shaving cream, splatter paint,
stickers, wax… We are old-school, always old school. We prefer the boiled water + vinegar + food
coloring method of our childhood. Not
only does nostalgia play into it, it’s damn easy to set up and clean up.
We go with the same old
same old – flowers, patterns, bunnies, writing – but it’s fun. It’s always fun. We text pictures to our kids, who are scattered
all over the eastern half of the United States.
One responds with an observation that the egg with the face on it looks
like it is trying to escape. We add a
thought bubble to the egg and send it along with such quips as, “This is eggs-ellent,”
and “Eggs-actly.”
Easter starts out as a
bust and ends up a boon. We dye eggs,
sip some chardonnay, and play a few heated rounds of rummy before my sister
finally packs it in and heads home.
