Friday? Good!

Let's go back to Good Friday, 2005.

Matt and I weren't married yet - we would be in another few months - but he was down for the weekend, and as is tradition in our family (for reasons I don't recall), we were having a Good Friday meal of barbecue. Mom, Dad, Matt and I were at Dreamland, eating pulled pork and drinking beer and just generally having fun.  My sister was flying in the next day, and on Sunday, my Aunt and Uncle were coming up for an Easter Brunch.

So, we're talking and Dad says he's been so busy getting ready, he hasn't dyed the eggs yet.  I pipe in that the eggs are something Matt and I can do, and Dad thinks about it for a second before agreeing - but tells us that we have to do a good job and make them pretty.

I'll stop for a second to explain how Dad did his eggs.  He always bought two of the standard Paas kits, and doubled down on the dye. Two tablets per container for a really dark, saturated color.

And one to grow on.
He would leave the eggs in for a good while - nothing overly pastel for Dad.  He would remove them carefully, let them dry, and they were really, really pretty.

Dad didn't buy into fads.  No glitter, no swirly dye, no stickers or decals.

So he wanted to make sure we didn't deviate from this, and once we assured him we wouldn't, he agreed that we could do them.

At this point, Matt very earnestly looks at my father and says, "Will dye be provided?"

I had been drinking, I was a little buzzed, and I just started cackling.  I mean, there's no other way to describe it - I cackled.  And I couldn't stop.  The harder I tried to stop, the more I laughed.

So, Matt drove us back to my parents where we got the eggs and dye.  And a warning from Dad to not "fuck them up".

Naturally, our first stop was at Kroger for more eggs.

Because, we were going to do what Dad asked, but first... we were going to do a dozen in our own style.

Matt did one that looked like a breast - pale pink with a darker pink nipple.  He also did one that was perfectly dyed, to Dad's specification, but with one deviation.  He had used the wax crayon to write "Happy Easter" on one side.  On the other?  "Now Go Home".

I did one in the colors of the Italian flag, and wrote on it "Get Well Soon, Pope!".  Spoiler alert:  he died shortly after that.

I did one that was covered over with every awful sticker in the kit, and one that looked like an eyeball, and so on.

The masterpiece was the one where Matt made a wire hanger out of the little dipper wand and rammed it through a plain white egg. 

Once we had finished those, we got to work on the two dozen Dad had given us.  They were exactly what he wanted.

The next day when we took them over, we decided to show them ours first.  Dad shook his head at us, but he laughed at some of the sick, twisted eggs we'd crafted.  His favorite was the "Now Go Home".  Mom liked the Eggbortion, and they both enjoyed the Pope egg.

They had us keep them to show my sister, and she thought they were sick and funny, too.

The pretty ones turned out great.  Dad lined a white ceramic basket with Easter grass, and we put the pretty, bright eggs in the basket.

The only other thing I remember about brunch is the champagne.  With raspberries.

Happy Easter.  Now Go Home.