Damn damn damn. Easter is harder than it looks.

My eggs were perfect little specimens. Eggland's Best, if you must know. 18 beauties snuggled deep in their cups, just waiting for the right moment to turn from gelatinous mess into the Ultimate Hard Boiled Egg. I lovingly placed them ever so gently into the bottom of the largest pot I have (a real new england lobstah pot) and when they sighed from being blissfully covered with cold water (absolutely necessary for the appropriate boil) liberally salted (to avoid crackage due to extreme temps) and heated to a Rapid Boil, I covered their uncracked surfaces with the lid, and watched, as they turned for slow twisting eggs, into hard, fast, tight little turners right in front of my very eyes.

You'd have thought, after all this, (okay, so it was maybe, 20 minutes total) I might have noticed my fatal flaw: the fucking eggs are brown. BROWN. Everyone knows you cannot dye brown eggs.

This is what I get for gloating this year.

Buying the eggs early. Making sure none were already cracked. Desperately attempting (and succeeding!) in the avoidance of the dreaded Double Boil (where you boil the eggs, and amidst the dying process, your small child cracks one as it decends into a glass of food color only to find that the white is cooked wonderfully, but the yellow? well. suffice to say, all the undyed eggs go back into the pot for an extra boil. I highly recommend not eating those) ..... only to peer into 18 orgasmically uncracked (ok, I don't get out much, I'll try harder...but go with me here) eggs and realize that they are....UNDYABLE.

The worst part of this whole scenario is that I discovered this after I told the small child we were ready to dye them.

Plus also, I hate hate hate the smell of hard boiled eggs, and now it's permeating the house, by way of dog gas.

(what else do you do with them, I ask you - other than feed them to great danes???)

To top this whole thing off, we have the Easter Egg Hunt at karate tomorrow, and you know that someone will be totally unable to keep the secret this his mother has yet again, fucked up the easter eggs. Hopefully, he'll not use that word, but well. You get the point. How stupid does one have to be to screw up easter eggs? I've only been doing this, what, 30 plus years?

Evidently, one of the holiday's I excell at is the Fucked Up Easter Egg. So far, in his mere five-ish years on the planet, I've managed to screw up the eggs each and every year.

Sigh. Just do it.

Just strip me of my Mother Of The Year status. I no longer deserve to hold the tiara. (it does come with a tiara, yes???)

Mood:not at all eggstatic