Easter Eggs

Last Saturday night, as I was standing in the kitchen blowing my brains out, all I could think was: Martha did it to me again.

It had recently dawned on me that the Easter holiday was approaching. Maybe it was random talk of Lenten sacrifices, or the grocery store aisles filled with candy, plastic grass and cheap straw baskets that tipped me off.

Easter, this year, is a bigger deal to me than in years past. Because, this year, the holiday is all ‘on me’. Not being a big holiday person, I’ve been content to let the grandparents call the Easter shots the past three years. They’ve made the ham, organized egg-hunting excursions, and produced boiled eggs and bowls of colored vinegar water.

But now that we’re in the frozen tundra, we’re grandparent-less. Which means, this year, unless I come through with a new sweater, or a little basket or some hidden eggs…or something, my kids will get nada come Easter morn.

So I made a mental note to remember to put together some Easter baskets for the boys. Which, of course, involved having to ascertain the exact date of Easter, since I can’t be counted upon to shower on a daily basis, much less know the dates of holidays. 

But part of me thought that wouldn’t be enough. There needed to be…more. It needed to be the best Easter. Ever.

And of course, Martha Stewart was more than happy to offer a few suggestions to that end.

The April issue of Martha Stewart Living arrived two weeks ago. And, once again, the cover featured some lovely looking craft that I knew would be the death of me: dyed egg ornaments.

I read through the instructions on how to blow out eggs, aka, make tiny holes on the top and bottom and force out the contents of the egg. I bought five dozen eggs at Costco, we gathered supplies and began our egg-blowing adventures after dinner.

Egg number 1, cracked in my hand while I was diligently trying to make a tiny hole in its top. Egg number 2, was retrieved from its carton by our resident Hen and accidentally smashed on the table. Before anyone could even try to make a hole in it.

Which is when the operation was moved to the kitchen. And why I spent my Saturday night blowing my brains out. Naturally Jason got roped in, as he knew he would. And he spent his Saturday night blowing his brains out too. Except, he made bigger holes than I did, and was approximately three times as fast at placing empty eggs back into the carton.

I’d envisioned a plethora of beautiful, colorful eggs. But after blowing out a few, we decided twenty was a nice, round number. We could always make some more.

Next year.


13 thoughts on “Easter Eggs

  1. It is funny that you said you spent Saturday night blowing your brains out and that Jason was blowing his brains out too!! I get what you meant, but still funny. The eggs look really good by the way!!:):)

  2. I know – I couldn’t resist. There’s got to be a better way of saying it….sadly one of the big ones was just crushed to bits…by the Hen.

  3. I think the eggs look really pretty! But might I point out that many of your crazy crafty/cooking adventures seem to be caused by the high-falutin magazines you’re subscribing to. Replace Bon Appetit with, oh, I don’t know, Redbook, and replace Martha Stewart’s (Crazy Ridiculous Rules for) Living with something far less demanding. In other words, lower your standards. I’m all for it. 😉

  4. Ms Selkowe – I think I’ve thought of a new career for you: life coach! My life would be a lot simpler without those mags.

  5. Don’t listen to Vicky. I can’t survive without asparagus/brie/australian berry sheep custard. Don’t make me go back to meatloaf and canned green beans… its just not human.

  6. Hmmm….seems like maybe the subscriptions (and the subsequent work and panic-inducing super-person expectations) should be switched over to Jason’s name…YOU try to live up to Martha’s standards and see if you’re still saying, “It’s a good thing” when that bleepin’ magazine arrives every month. 🙂

  7. That’s funny – since Jason IS the one who tends to subscribe to these magazines as a ‘gift’ to me.

  8. What’s also funny is that I end up being roped into “helping” with all the crafts and poultry cleaning.

  9. See! *Neither* of you really like all the craft projects that are hours and hours past your sons’ attention span (and that, even if they *were* interested, they couldn’t possibly do anyway, and would likely just frustrate them to tears and permanently lower their self-esteem or be the topic of therapy for most of their adult years…) or the fancy-schmancy recipes that demand 400 ingredients (none of which is ever in any normal family’s pantry or refrigerator) and 2 hours of meticulous prep work. Just admit it, you’d both be just fine with Annie’s Mac & Cheese and those Amy’s organic chicken “sausages.” AND think of what you could do with the time you save! [Claps hands together] My work here is done! 🙂

  10. Life coach slash marriage counsellor! I’m going to wake up Jason and tell him all this. A new day has begun!


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