As I reflect back on Easter weekend, I realize that there were some major life lessons to be had and shared. ( Irealize that this post is a bit late. But hey, I never professed to have any rhyme or reason to this blog)
1) I should not be in charge of pumping gas.
2) There is a right and wrong way to cut the egg when making deviled eggs. After cutting my first egg incorrectly (really, is this a thing??), I was informed that I was doing it wrong. Well, I have news for you. You are supposed to prop the carton of eggs on its side in the fridge for at least 12 hours so that the yolk centers.
3) You are never too old to partake in an Easter Egg Hunt. Just change what you’re hiding and hunting for. Basically, my parents best friends had the brilliant idea to start a Beer Hunt so that the adults could get in on the Easter hunting action. The most genius part is that they make the grown children hide the funsies (beers and airplane bottles). I guess it’s payback for all the years they had to prep and hide Easter Eggs.
4) Beer Hunts go much more quickly than Easter Egg hunts. Go figure! We were pretty proud of ourselves for the sneaky hiding spots we found, and knew that we’d be keeping the parents busy while we kicked back and enjoyed the show. Imagine our surprise when they ran outside like a bunch of vultures and swept all the goodies into their baskets in about a minute. With the tables turned, we realized how our parents must have felt when we made quick work of their carefully hidden Easter treats. We did get the last laugh as the “adults” wore ridiculously adorned “Easter Hats”. Pretty good payback for all the Easter get-ups I was forced to wear.
5) Not to ever let the ham rice–or Mema– out of my sight. (Ham rice is the most yummiest, holiday treat made with the juice of the ham. It’s salty goodness.) I somehow managed to snag the leftover ham rice this year, and packed it up to come back to Raleigh with us. Being the sweet granddaughter that I am, I also made my Grandaddy Neil a to-go plate since he couldn’t make Easter lunch. When my Mema left she grabbed his plate, and made a play for the ham rice as well. Luckily, I saw her play and sweetly offered her the ham rice too. She politely declined like the good southern woman she is, and I promised to think of her when I ate the leftovers.
Ok, that’s enough walking down memory lane. I want a Beer Hunt and some ham rice NOW.
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