...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

today's lesson: "don't put all your eggs in one basket"

Check out my family's super rad Easter eggs! Aren't they pretty? Aren't they beautifully pastel? Maybe pastel-ish? Somewhere out there, on a free-range farm or a bucket of KFC (extra crispy, if you please), is a hen strutting around, all cocky with glee that she could sacrifice her non-fertilized efforts for the benefit of my future egg salad sandwiches and/or protein rich, hard boiled egg breakfast.

Did you catch that last part? It's a key element to my story, so tuck it away and follow along.

I left my Tool Man and our little bolts home alone this afternoon to color eggs (after we'd been to our town Easter egg hunt, which, btw, if your kid is 10 years old, fellow Moms and Dads, you do not need to hustle out there with them to get the goods, alright?! Sheesh. The only exception to this rule is as follows: if - and only if - you see a giant Reece's Peanut Butter Egg on the ground and your 10 year old has dashed by it in hopes of snagging that lame stick of Laffy Taffy. Then, by all means, knock out the kid zeroing in on your chocolate and peanut butter, throw your body over the treat, then remind your kid when he comes back with his bucket of crappy bubblegum and assorted jawbreakers that you talked about the good stuff strategy and you damn well expect better out of him next year).

Anyway, after the world's longest parenthetical remark, my husband volunteered to help the kids color eggs while I hopped like a bunny to Target to pick up some Easter goodies (because hello!? my kid was all, "Pffft. Whatever, giant Reece's Peanut Butter Egg that I know my mom would enjoy."). Normally, we do this holiday tradition as a family unit, but because I was running behind, I thanked him, and told him that he'd see the carton of eggs meant for coloring in the fridge, all hard boiled and ready to dye. Mwa ha ha!

When I returned a bit later, my artists in residence were all gathered around the kitchen table, oohing and awing over the magic that a tablet of food coloring and a couple tablespoons of distilled vinegar creates. I joined in, commending them on their use of purples and oranges and the message they were trying to convey with the random swirls of green, then went on my way to hide the bags of Hershey's chocolate eggs I'd picked up so the Tool Man wouldn't eat them all before Sunday mornings.

About an hour later, we gathered in the kitchen again for lunch. As the boys ate their peanut butter sandwiches (Oh, NOW you like peanut butter, eh 10 year old son?!), and my husband concocted whatever weird sandwich he was making out of salami and pickle slices and mustard (oh my!), I peered into the fridge, where my eyes came to rest on the eggs my boys had colored. The ones my husband had returned to their carton so the Easter bunny would have an easy time of finding them Sunday morning.

"Huh. Wonder what those are doing on the second shelf. In the spot where we keep the eggs. The regular eggs. The ones not typically hard boiled and primed for dying," I wondered, as my eyes traveled around the remaining items in the fridge and landed on the other carton of eggs on the bottom shelf. Where we don't normally store eggs. Where we'd store eggs meant for hard boiling and primed for dying.

Lest you think my husband could be so easily confused by the overabundance of eggs in our fridge that his mind would be momentarily scrambled, leaving him confused as to what to do without me nearby to guide him, trust that I thought I had made this job incredibly easy for him. Want to know how? Let me show you. Take a peek over there to the right. Notice the distinct directives? The "Hard Boiled" and "Use These"? Yeah, those notes were written all over the carton.
All over it.
In black Sharpie.
In a penmanship style I believed my husband would easily be able to read, and not my cursive style of writing, which he claims looks like the rambling manifesto of a whacked out Kool Aid drinker waiting for the spaceship to land.
Or like this blog entry is getting to be, if I were writing it freehand and you were all forced to take it in that way.
The Tool Man's excuse for coloring the wrong eggs? "I didn't see the hard boiled ones." Allow me to direct you again to the photograph just above you and to the right.
These boys of mine colored a dozen raw eggs, all the while filling the kitchen with excited chatter about where the Easter Bunny would hide each one for them to find before we go to church Sunday morning. Instead, the Easter Bunny better make me an omelet, because now my kids - not all that interested in collecting 12 plain old white eggs - really can't put all their eggs in one basket.
Or any basket, for that matter.
Next year, apparently, I need to write directions on every damn egg. Additionally, my kid better hook me up with the giant Reece's Peanut Butter Egg at the town egg hunt. The Easter Bunny doesn't take kindly to "I didn't see it" excuses. Seriously.
Happy Easter, though! May all your eggs be hard!

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Blogger Mandy Lou said...

I only by brown eggs - except once a year. Not trusting the fact that Scott would realize that there is a difference in the colors of eggs, I put a big sticky note on the front of the fridge "DON'T USE THE WHITE EGGS". Long story short, I only colored 10 eggs, because someone can't read and was hungry for eggs.

Clearly, we both need to revisit my multiple choice answers, specifically: "A. he's a man - he's oblivious"

Saturday, March 22, 2008 8:42:00 PM  
Blogger Bee said...

If you do hide them? Make sure you find them all, you don't want to be playing "what's that smell" in July!

Saturday, March 22, 2008 9:00:00 PM  
Blogger Chuck said...

This is freaking hilarious! Men! I tell you...actually it sounds like something I would do.


Saturday, March 22, 2008 11:09:00 PM  
Blogger kimmyk said...

oh for the love of mary.
this just proves once again, you can't leave a man to do a a momma's job.

i give him credit for trying...good job tool man..good job...*pats head*

so i take it you had to go out and buy another box of dye and color them yourself??

hey, what's up with the 10 year old passin' the reese's pb cup egg? i mean, whose kid is he? reese's pb egg? helloooo. that's like pb and creamy chocolate goodness all nestled in..an egg. you just can't have that everyday-it's a special kind of egg. kids. sheesh.

oh and i totally agree with your "world's longest parenthetical remark". sometimes ya gotta sacrifice your body in the name of all that's good and holy.

Sunday, March 23, 2008 7:44:00 AM  
Blogger Phyllis RenĂ©e said...

Well, they are pretty eggs.

Sunday, March 23, 2008 7:44:00 AM  
Blogger Chris said...

We colored eggs for the first time this year. We brought the water to a boil and put the eggs in. And everything starting cracking. We ended up having to go to Google to learn how to make hard-boiled eggs. How bad do we suck?

Sunday, March 23, 2008 2:18:00 PM  
Blogger 1blueshi1 said...

a coworker suggested I hide some regular eggs this Sunday. obviously one that doesn't have kids and hasn't experienced the many years of cleaning up messes that accompany their joyous entry into parents' lives.
I put up an Easter entry, too! Happy Fadkog Easter! "tool man and the little bolts"--snort. hehehe.

Sunday, March 23, 2008 2:51:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Where's the sign that says "don't use these under penalty of death"? Failure to mark the correct carton is at fault here, I'm fairly certain ...

Sunday, March 23, 2008 4:45:00 PM  
Blogger Backpacking Dad said...

No no no no no.

I'm totally backing up the Tool Man on this one; and not out of any "guy solidarity" or anything. Although I would totally do that too. Totally. (Say "totally" again.)

You left him to paint eggs. He went to the fridge, looked for eggs, and found them in the very first place he looked because that is where you would look for eggs if you were told there were eggs to look for so that you could paint eggs.

The mistake wasn't his; he didn't have any reason at all to look for more eggs once he had found eggs.

No, my dear; the mistake was yours. Your scribbling on the to-be-painted carton was inspired, but doomed: you would have had to be sure he would look for more eggs, and then compare the scribbled-on-caron with the non-scribbled-on-carton in order to decide which one to use for your note to be useful. But, as I said, why look for more eggs once you've found eggs? The writing ought to have gone on the carton he wasn't supposed to use. What were you saving your ink for?

Now, you might direct your ire at the guy for not being able to tell the difference between hard-boiled and raw-in-shell just by feel. But I'm not sure I could either, without shaking them, and again, if I had found eggs I wouldn't really be in any doubt that they were the right ones, so I wouldn't bother shaking them to see...

No, the only thing the Tool Man did wrong here was, at the outside, being too sure that there was only one carton of eggs in the fridge.

And how big of a blunder is that one? Really?


Monday, March 24, 2008 12:49:00 AM  
Blogger The Savage said...

You should submit a manuscript of your life to TV networks. You'll make a great sit-com....

Monday, March 24, 2008 4:24:00 AM  
Blogger Bunny said...

Guys really are different, aren't they? LOL that none of the three could spot the correct eggs.

We didn't go to any Easter eggs hunts Saturday. Most of them here have been rescheduled to NEXT Saturday because of SNOW. Spring my pasty white fanny!

Monday, March 24, 2008 6:57:00 AM  
Blogger Bogart said...

MMMMM Reece's Peanut Butter Eggs.

Sorry about the eggs...do green ones taste better than pink ones? Oh I bet they do!

Monday, March 24, 2008 8:06:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

We did the egg-coloring thing for the first time, too. When my kids were pulling them out of the carton, I expressed great concern about the possibility of the eggs being dropped and broken... which prompted the following conversation:

TheWife: (looking at me incredulously) "You do know these are hard-boiled, right?"

Me: (looking at her stupidly)

TheWife: "You have no idea what I'm talking about."

Me: "Uh..."

TheWife: "Maybe you should go back to cleaning up the yard."

Monday, March 24, 2008 8:30:00 AM  
Blogger Therese in Heaven said...

Never send a baby to buy the beer. Or dye the eggs, apparently.

Monday, March 24, 2008 11:09:00 AM  
Blogger Crazy Computer Dad said...

:-) So, here I am, fresh out of a workout. Glad that I ate well all day, no junk food. My son is at his mom's for the week so I have no Easter candy at all....and I'm getting a shower so that I can go to Target and hunt for my very own giant reeces egg. I might get two just to make sure the first one wasn't a fluke.

The eggs look amazing though. I bet they make a first class omelet too (even if it comes out in rainbow hues).

Monday, March 24, 2008 5:18:00 PM  
Blogger Me said...

Haha! What a man!!! I'm surprised mine remembered to even hard boil them :D

Monday, March 24, 2008 8:23:00 PM  
Blogger Amber said...

Big Daddy would have done the same thing. I can't even say anything clever, because I can relate to the note about which eggs to use and the fact that it was ignored.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 12:02:00 AM  
Blogger Nanette said...

I am very impressed that they didn't crack all of the eggs. At least they've got themselves some ova handling skillz--laugh next year. Muhahahahahaha! ;)

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 6:31:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

aww, crap, different gal!! first i read kimmyk's prom post and about pee my pants, then i come over here and read this gloriously egg-cellent tale of egg mix-ups and spew my coffee everywhere! haha! this is a classic, my friend. an absolute classic. gotta love it. Hope you had a great Easter! :)

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 6:36:00 AM  
Blogger SuperWife said...

Can I say that I had virtually the same experience? Well, it wasn't with the current hubby, but the last one did it.

Consequently, as soon as you mentioned that you had pre-boiled eggs to be used and were leaving Dad in charge, I knew just where this expedition was heading.

Also, for the record, marking both boxes (one with "use these" and the other with "don't use these") doesn't always work either. Really.

Pretty eggs, though.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 7:00:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Reese's peanut butter eggs. . . mmmmmmm

But yeah, I can actually see myself doing the same stupid thing (an admission that I'm not proud to make, y'understand). Go to the fridge, get eggs. Simple and straightforward, right? Only it's not quite as simple as *that*, is it?

Not making any apologies for the Tool Man, but XI's double labeling suggestion ('Hard-Boiled, Use These', 'Raw, Don't Use These') would probably work better. . .

And yeah, you'll laugh about it later, won't you? . . .

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 10:05:00 AM  
Blogger Kindred said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 10:11:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I fear the sick sense of joy I get at husbands torturing their wives with their stupidity is going to come back and bite me in the ass someday.

Seriously, you're hilarious! I found you through a comment on I'm No Belle and am looking forward to some more laughs.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 11:34:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Oh, yeah - I have to leave the obligatory (for me) swooning comment on the Beatles reference.

One of the funniest things I've ever heard was a very stuffy, starchy British fellow doing a 'poetic' reading of 'Walrus'. "Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog's eye. . ." Sorry, guess you had to be there. . .

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 12:53:00 PM  
Blogger Nature Girl said...

I'm not allowed to boil eggs in my house. My husband claims that I "don't do it right" He looked up the "proper proceedure" on the internet and it has officially become his job in our house. Because of the diet we are on, we eat a lot of eggs, hard boiled, scrambled, you name it. When we run out of hard boiled he's all "oh? didn't you realize we were out of hb eggs? why didn't you make any?" and I'm all, like dude..you don't like the way I do it, you can do it yourself! So now he does and he writed on the carton, all over it with sharpie, hard boiled eggs.
Every time I reach in the fridge it takes MASSIVE amounts of willpower not to switch a few out with the raw carton just for spite! Seriously? Proper proceedure? Boiled is boiled! UGH! I just want to swear now I'm so mad. Pass me a peanut butter egg willya...

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 2:26:00 PM  
Blogger Biscuit said...

Unfortunately, I'm the Tool in this family. That is so something I would have done.

But I still laughed until I wheezed, then gasped for air!

No lie, I was actually eating a Reese's Peanut Butter Egg while I read this. Eery...

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 6:34:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Mandy - Your idea of the sticky note on the front of the fridge is one I should have employed. So much for faith, eh!?

Bee - Cripes, most days, living with these who stand to pee, it's like I'm playing the "What's that smell?!" game all the dang time!

Chuck - Thank you for bravely admitting that you'd perhaps fall victim to this, too!

Kimmy - By the time I noticed and gave them the "Well, I hope you're satisfied!" talk, I could just not deal with coloring any more eggs. The bright ones do make for a festive breakfast, I'll give the Tool Man that much.

Phyllis - They are quite the artistic bunch, aren't they?

Chag - Um, every year, I must look up the secret recipe for boiling eggs. I suck, too!

1blueshi1 - The Easter bunny usually hides the hard boiled eggs around the house (with us keeping very good track of where they were dropped), but this year not so much. I had to give them the "No way the Easter bunny is hiding eggs, you know? I hope you're satisfied!"

XI - My job hinges on the fact that I have faith in my coworker/cohort. This problem, of course, will be written up and placed in his personnel file.

Backpacking Dad - What? Huh? But? What? ME?!?! The problem lies with me?! I so worked hard to make this project crystal clear (you can tell I'm a pretty clear cut person by the way I write, can't you?!).

BTW - I totally said "totally" a lot while reading your comment. Totally.


Savage - Would you consider being the jaunty neighbor who pops over all the time if said life was made into a sitcom? Oh, and where's the standard part of your comment, mister....

Bunny - I thought there was hope for the weather, until the temps started dropping again tonight. Hopefully the egg hunt will go off without a hitch this weekend!

Bogart - I believe it's true that most green foods taste better. I bet even green Reece's peanut butter eggs would, too!

Twobusy - This story of yours made me laugh. I'm laughing again re-reading it. Story of my life...

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 9:12:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Therese - Amen! Except I dare not think what he would have come back with had he gone to Target in my place!

CCD - When I was at the store the day after, I didn't see any Reece's eggs. I suppose this was a good thing, considering between my two boys, there is three gallon Ziploc bags stuffed with candy in my cupboard now!

Wethyb - Next year I should probably leave the boiling to my husband!

Scarlett - I can respect the fact that Big Daddy is military smart, but would still pull a thing such as this!

Nan - Heh, to boot (heh!)

Katie - You're falling apart, girl! We'll get you coming and going!

Superwife - I hope the egg fiasco wasn't grounds! Of course, I could use that in the future, should the need arise! Ha!

Des - I was more of the school of shaking my head in dismay. That looks a lot like my "you've got to be kidding me" and "I am not amused" head shakes. All the men around here, however, were snickering under the breath with their heads ducked so I couldn't see. I could, of course, and that just prompted me to shake my head some more!

Meg - The trick is to shake your head and smile along (then say "yeah! blog fodder!"). Thank you for coming by and commenting! Drop in anytime!

Des - You know I drop those random references in just for you, dont'cha?

Stacie - You're going too harcore for a peanut butter egg, girl! Of course, I'm a fan of moderation so I'd share! This is the first year I didn't have to look up the hard boiled egg recipe online, but only because I caught a news segment for the perfect hard cooked egg on the day I cooked them, and I must say, they are delish, but I'm getting tired of them already. Maybe I can share the hardcooked eggs and not hte peanut butter eggs with you, too?

Tuesday, March 25, 2008 9:29:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Biscuit - In my consuming thoughts of walls and peanut butter eggs, I sadly missed you! We could so totally push peanut butter eggs up against walls, too, come to think of it...

Wednesday, March 26, 2008 7:41:00 AM  
Blogger Eternal Sunshine said...

This is hilarious! I can totally relate - I'm sure that between my husband just being a man, and me being - well, somewhat blonde - one of us wcould totally do something like this.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008 9:32:00 AM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Melody - With every plain old hard boiled egg I eat in the morning, I think fondly of all my boys. And shake my head yet again!

Wednesday, March 26, 2008 9:56:00 AM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

I should put you in touch with Molly; the dear woman makes the most perfect hard-boiled eggs I've ever encountered anywhere. The yolks are firm, but moist, and she does it every single time.

I know, you must be getting tired of me constantly regaling you with the perfection that is Molly, but, to steal a line from Lou Gehrig, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. . .

Wednesday, March 26, 2008 10:13:00 AM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Des - My recipe for the perfect hard cooked egg is as follows, we'll see if it matches Molly's:

Place the eggs in a pot, cover in cool water, cover. Heat on stovetop until water is just simmering, then remove from heat and let sit, covered, for 15 minutes. Drain. Cover in cold water to stop the cooking process. Put in the fridge (in a container marked HARD BOILED EGGS! USE THESE!)

They were perfect! Not a trace of green around the yolk, and exactly how you described them above (the likes of which I'm refraining from snickering at, btw)

As for regaling me with the perfection that is Molly? Not at all! That we should all be as lucky as you two have been!

Thursday, March 27, 2008 2:32:00 PM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

Well, I know that the cold-water bath at the end is a key step in the process, so there's definitely that. . .

And, this past weekend, our second-eldest daughter was home for the holidays; at one point, the older kids were talking about their memories of growing up in our family, and she said, "I just remember you and mom fighting all the time."

Which, well. . . funny, but I don't remember it quite that way. . .

Thursday, March 27, 2008 3:49:00 PM  
Blogger for a different kind of girl said...

Des - Hmmm. Is "...you and mom fighting all the time" actually code for something else?

(well, because in my house growing up, fighting was definitely fighting!)

Thursday, March 27, 2008 11:23:00 PM  
Blogger Desmond Jones said...

No, Molly and I are both fairly headstrong (a nicer word than 'stubborn', don't you think?), and we can both run to the 'emotional' end of the scale. So, it probably was more common than I think it was for our, um, 'discussions' to get rather more intense than a young girl wished they were.

I just didn't think it was, you know, 'all the time'. . .

But, stealing a line from Monty Python, "We got better. . ."

Friday, March 28, 2008 9:59:00 AM  

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