Tonight we colored some eggs bought at the store, because the eggs that drop out of our very own chicken's butts are already colored. I also bought eggs to make my famous Easter Deviled Eggs, because fresh eggs are a pain in the patooty to peel.
Duty-Shirker H hit the road for the Saturday night auction the minute the mention of egg-dyeing wafted through the living room. Which at least meant one less cook to spoil the colorful broth. I set out some old Christmas wrap on the cutting block. Not to confuse my offspring, but because it is more waterproof than paper towels. I had bought two packets of PAAS dye, yet somehow ended up with 18 tablets of various hues instead of 12. Half a gallon of vinegar later, we were ready to roll.
The #1 son nearly drove me crazy. er. You would think that a 16-year-old dude would be too cool to color eggs. Au contraire. He commandeered five of The Pony's dozen eggs. Make that eleven eggs. The Pony ate one for breakfast. While The Pony's eggs turned out smooth and evenly-hued, #1's eggs looked like rejects headed for the Island of Misfit Chicken Ova.
#1's egg-dyeing technique left much to be desired. I told him he was like a bull in a chicken coop. Unlike The Pony, who carefully placed the egg on the metal loop and submerged it gently like a freshly-shampooed toddler's head, #1 dangled his egg over the dye cup with thumb and forefinger, proclaimed that it would be the best egg ever, then plunked it dramatically into the murky bath. Seventeen times.
My carefully-measured dyes were not good enough for #1. He had to heft a dripping yellow egg into the neon green. Thus ruining the neon green. He took one egg and dipped it into every dye cup. I told him he was dyeing an egg, not drinking a soda suicide. For the grand finale, #1 poured all the light-colored dyes together, and all the dark-colored dyes together. Thank the Gummi Mary, I stopped him from plopping an egg into the full-to-the brim cup until he poured out part of the liquid.
I just heard D-S H clomping through the Mansion. I dare him to ask about dyeing.
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4 comments:
No egg dying here! No children to fight and spill. I spent a day blissfully alone. I sewed and watched Lifetime sob stories. No candy, either. After eight days of non-stop kiddie fun ....... it was heavenly!
Kathy,
You're making me jealous. Not the sewing part. Or the NO CANDY part. But the rest of it...yeah, I envy you.
Went to sunrise service, ate breakfast at the church, headed to mom and dad's house til time for regular church service, ate lunch at Denny's and came home, hit the sack and slept til 5:30. I felt like a new woman! Great Easter Sunday!
Labbie,
Sounds tranquil.
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