Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter. Traditions and Tragedies
A few years ago, I found a green egg in one of my grandmother's african violets--a real egg, mind you. I actually remember putting it there. Scary thing is, I haven't done an egg hunt there since I was a kid. Guess they don't start smelling till they're cracked.
This is the first year in a while having an Easter with a kid around. So I was pretty excited about hiding the eggs--all 95 of them. I had 40 boiled and 55 plastic. Valinda suggested I write a list of where I was hiding all the eggs at least for the real eggs. Now my sister and I are very different. Valinda is one who writes lists and rough drafts for her lists and somewhere on her rough draft she writes "rewrite list." Naturally, I respect her organization, but I like short cuts. I wasn't going to write a list. I would remember. I had a pretty good memory.
I've been out of school for a little while and unfortunatly memory of intelligence and actual intelligence are two different things. I should have made a list.
We found 54 plastic eggs and 37 real eggs. I should have made a list
I did recall my best hid eggs. One locked in my lock box designed to look like a Standard English Dictionary. The other buried under my potted braided palm.