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Wife As Bunny; Egg in Shoe; Eggs on Ceiling

Baby Boomer Going Like Sixty Posted on by

There are three lasting memories I have connected to Easter.
In order of longevity they are:

  • My mother always put a hard boiled Easter Egg in my shoe. Nancy continued this after Mother died. This year, I let her off the hook, saying that being sixty was old enough to retire the tradition. I have a feeling I am too late. It’s probably already planted.
    I was reminded of this after she delivered a solid chocolate Easter bunny to a neighbor, who is 30, as a favor to her mother who was going to be out of town.
  • I thought the business I worked for should have an Easter Bunny to create some goodwill. Nancy loves this kind of stuff, so she volunteered to be the bunny. “That was so fun, I wish we still had the costume,” she just said. She just wandered around downtown on Saturday and made kids eyes light up. On Easter Sunday, she made deliveries to the kids in the neighborhood.
  • If we have visitors for Easter, Nancy always colors eggs. Amy and SIL came on Easter, so she got busy and was boiling eggs when she remembered and errand and left the house. We came home to a house full of blue smoke, the pan had boiled dry and two dozen eggs had exploded. Appropriately, we had an egg crate false ceiling and the eggs blew through to the solid ceiling above.

    • Today will be relatively calm, unless we have an explosion related to her appointment Monday. This could be another memory-making day!

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    Comments

    Wife As Bunny; Egg in Shoe; Eggs on Ceiling — 14 Comments

    1. Erika and her husband are here coloring eggs with the kids. And I like the egg in the shoe thing, although I hope it’s boiled quite firm, otherwise such a mess if you put in your foot without looking.

      Gretchen’s last blog post..Artificial Camel Toe.

    2. @Gretchen: that’s cool that you’re having a family mess. Did the bros. talk Boolie into tasting the blue water? Yes, the egg is very well boiled and then tossed because it usually was slipped in the night before.

    4. You know, I can almost smell that exploding egg disaster! Ick 🙂
      I discovered that easter egg hunts are more exciting for the organiser than for the kids, having organised my first ever hunt for Puppychild yesterday! I’ll never forget it. The hyperactivity and sugar induced madness was worth it!

      Grandad’s last blog post..The need for security

    5. OOPS! Not from Grandad… from me! (As you can probably guess from the ditzier affectations)

      Forget to check the small print.

    8. Long ago I exploded a pot of hardboiled eggs, too. I was distracted playing a fierce game of backgammon with my roommate in the other end of the apartment, and completely forgot the eggs. Consumption of wine may have played a part.

      Suddenly I said “What’s that popping noise? Are kids playing with firecrackers on the street?”

      And oh yes oh yes oh yes the smell.

      Polly’s last blog post..Les Fleurs

    11. What he has forgotten is the time his parents came for Easter and I had the girls make place cards, etc. to keep them out of my hair! So they made little “stands” to put hardboiled on and we colored them with every person’s name on it. However, to play a trick on Sixty, his egg wasn’t hardboiled! So the joke around the table was is it or isn’t it? So we told him to smash the egg – the look on his face was priceless – could have been a commercial!

      Nancy’s last blog post..February Wrap-up

    12. @Kate the G8, aka Grandad: Yes, I could tell by the attitude of the post that something was amiss. Turns out Grandad was a Miss! Hiding the eggs was fun, and giving vague confusing hints too.

      @Oh Polly: never drink and boil – one of life’s hard lessons. “What’s that popping?” “Shut up, it’s your turn!” LOL.

      @Absurdist: use FF for best view, thanks.

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