Monday, April 09, 2007

The Nostalgia of Marriage

Something in marriage brings out all the forgotten stories of my youth. It seems like every other day, I'm telling McKay a story or little tidbit from growing up. I really enjoy it, too, because I can remember things I wouldn't have otherwise.

So yesterday was Easter, which as a holiday, will bring up traditions and memories on its own. So here you can see us dying eggs. The cups in the pictures are the same ones my family used to dye eggs in when I was growing up. And by same, I mean literally. My parents gave me the dish set. It was kind of fun being able to use the same mugs.

But the story! You all want to hear the story that I remembered? Even if you don't, here it goes:

Once upon a time (I want to place this event sometime when I was in junior high), our family was too busy to dye eggs one Easter. We didn't buy a kit, we didn't buy extra eggs, we weren't going to do that at all. But, as a strange, traditional person, this did not sit well with me.
3-o'clock Sunday morning, my alarm wakes me up. I go down stairs as quietly as I can (this is a difficult feat for me; I'm quite the clumsy one, you can ask my family, and even McKay will vouch for that one). I find the food coloring and read the instructions. I need what?! Vinegar?! My family NEVER uses vinegar EVER. We do not have a lick of it in the house...except for some ancient apple cider vinegar in the basement, which I think is older than me. I don't know what apple cider vinegar is, let alone if I can use it in place of white vinegar. But I do anyway. I'm quiet coming out of the basement, and I reenter the kitchen, looking for my mom's Betty Crocker cookbook because I've never boiled eggs before. Pot. I need a pot. A big pot.
Big pot + at the bottom of the cabinet = BIG NOISE. I wait until I'm sure no one heard me and I precede to boil, cool, and dye the eggs. I put them in the fridge, clean everything up and go back to bed (around 3:45).

The family now wakes up around 7/8 in the morning, goes downstairs and starts to eat breakfast. I think it was Rick who noticed the eggs in the refrigerator. I act all excited, "Look! the Easter Bunny did come!" jumping up and down to hide my guilt. My mom thinks my dad did it and my dad thinks my mom did it (and DON'T get them started on who the Easter Bunny is, I think my father will carry that secret to his grave; it's a good thing we'll be resurrected, eh?)

So I let my family be puzzled at this occurrence, until that night when I confessed to my mom. It was probably the best Easter ever.

I could tell you the worst Easter ever, but I won't. Just know that our Easter bunny is very, VERY mean, and writes in green crayon. And tears our lettuce and carrots all out of our fridge and spreads them all around the kitchen if he doesn't get a treat left out for him.

1 comment:

  1. Lori was justing telling me the other day about the incident of you dyeing eggs in the middle of the night. Good times!!
    For those you need to know about the bunny, the Easter bunny likes to come in the middle of the night and leave a basket by your bed and you can hear a little rattle from him. When you wake up you think it's your roommate, and she's asleep, then you think it's your boyfriend, and he's in bed in his apartment (I know because I drove to his apartment). This still remains a mystery who let the Big Bunny in my room.


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