What's this? You've not heard about the smashing of the eggs? Oh my, let me educated you. Once you learn of this noble tradition and it's storied past, I'm quite confident you'll incorporate this into your own Easter tradition.
Two years ago on Good Friday, Mama overdid it a bit in the garden. MAMA. And I was asked to come spend the night with her and take her to the emergency room if she woke up still feeling poorly, because Dipsey wanted to go turkey hunting early the next morning. DIPSEY. And yes, she was still feeling poorly, so I loaded up one limp-ey Mama and toted her to the ER. Here is a rough recount of the dialog between me and Mama once the morphine hit her bloodstream:
Mama: ...... it's Easter tomorrow.....
Me: Yes, Mama. I can make Easter dinner.
Mama: ...... you'll have to make Easter dinner.....
Me: Ok, Mama, I can do it.
Mama: ...... Bob is bringing..... a ham..... so you won't have to make a meat.....
Me: Ok, Mama, shhhhh, try to rest.
Mama: ..... but you will have to make a green salad......
Me: Ok, Mama, I can make a salad.
Mama: ....... i saw..... i saw...... this cake on Pinterest....
Me: I can make a cake, Mama, don't worry.
Mama: ......it had.... all these peeps on it..... all standing up....
Me: Ok, Mama I'll find it and make it.
Mama: ......I bought all the stuff for it.....
Me: Ok, Mama.
That was basically the bones of every conversation we had that morning, interspersed with a few "People LIKE feeling like this?" and other random statements.
In any event, that afternoon when Daddy returned (SANS TURKEY, I might add) and found me angrily cussing the boiled eggs I was peeling that wouldn't peel properly he asked what I was going to do with the three or four terribly pock-marked ones that were unfit for deviled eggery. To which I replied: "I'm going to go outside and smash them on trees." And gleefully we grabbed the eggs and hurled them with great joy against the trees.
A year later, DJ Smith and the Leading Lady were in attendance with a basket full of freshly colored Easter eggs. She wanted to keep them, she said, and eat them later. But after three or four rounds of egg hunts, they were all a bit gross and cracked. So, we divided them up among ourselves and gleefully smashed them against the trees.
This year, all children (including me) didn't even pretend we were going to do anything with the post-hunt eggs but smash them once the hunting novelty wore off. And this year, I made TWO dozen eggs!
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| lucy throwing |
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| and clay |
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| and dipsey |
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| and me |
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| and benny |
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| and mama |
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| and ella |
And, just so you know, there was also:
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| A PEEP CAKE |
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| and quail eggs. tastes like egg. |
In other news I went to a:
Why, you ask? Because:
And to be completely honest, I was filled with joy for two solid hours. It made me so happy that I kind of wanted to cry.
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| getting gussied up |
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| i sat with this woman for about an hour and she explained the intricacies of cat shows and judging. look how big that cat is! |
And with that - all the news I got for today. Over and out.
