Login

Hunting for Memories

I remember going to my grandma’s house as a kid for Easter egg hunts. I impatiently awaited these yearly searches almost to the point of frenzy. It wasn’t just the prospect of some sugar, though that certainly was part of the joy, it was also the thrill of the quest.

In addition to the small amount of candy my parents allowed me and my siblings to seek out on these special occasions, we’d paint an enormous amount of hardboiled eggs for scattering. I don’t think we were nearly as concerned over discovering the whereabouts of the hidden eggs as the candy though because we’d frequently find a few of those dyed ovals months later buried in the flowerbeds when the pungent aroma of their sulfuric rot was too overpowering to ignore. But not a single morsel of sugar ever escaped our frantic scavenging, of that I can assure you.

Keeping these rascals from escaping into the yard prematurely required body armor and a big stick.

Yes, I have plenty of warm recollections about Easter traditions, which is why I think everyone should have the opportunity to add Easter egg hunts to their list of “fond childhood memories.” Hence, I have always been a firm supporter and proponent of my nieces and nephews’ annual egg hunt. Jason and I contribute more toys, candy, and cash to this affair than any of the parents do. We are rewarded for our efforts by some hefty juvenile enthusiasm. The kids eagerly await the moment they are released into the yard as if looking for treats in the bushes is the most exciting activity they could possibly imagine. Once out they run about so manically that they miss half of what is plainly in front of them. It’s pretty entertaining.

Simone made Isabelle a cute little Easter dress. It even matched her basket.

The limited quantity money-filled golden eggs we hide are always the kids’ favorite but they do cause malcontent occasionally among the unsuccessful seekers. All the children walk away with a robust supply of sweets and toys though so their cash flow issues are soon forgotten.

I think Jason and I do a pretty fantastic job of creating memories for our young relatives. The Easter bunny doesn’t always bear an uncanny resemblance to a kind uncle but if you’re lucky he just might.

Rachel April 11, 2012 No Comments

A Paintful Experience

I played paintball when I was a teenager a few times and then, like most people, I forgot about it. That was until Jason and I attended a paintball birthday party for one of our friends a couple of weeks ago. Now it’s fresh on my mind and skin.

When I played paintball in high school I did so with a large number of girls therefore I was somewhat surprised to discover that this pastime apparently isn’t too popular with the ladies in general. I turned out to be one of only two girls in our sixteen-person group and definitely the only girl in the bunch that actually enjoyed herself. It’s true that paintball can be a startlingly painful experience; if you get hit in the wrong place or at close range there is usually bleeding involved. This isn’t a tag game for sissies. Many members of our group limped away from our matches with oozing battle wounds. I got a few whelps during the action but I didn’t mind too much. Dishing out punishment to the boys was worth the occasional insults I received.

Our group looks ridiculously tough right? Okay, maybe just ridiculous.

I’ll admit that I made no heroic attempts to offensively sprint across the arena like a few on my squad did repeatedly but my cowardly sheltered stance provided cover for many of those masochistic darters and served my team well. I took out quite a few of our opposition and made it through the majority of the games without being hit myself.

I would be happy to participate in a paintball showdown again. Who cares about a few bumps and bruises when there are boys to shoot? Next time we play though I’m hoping for a stronger female showing. Come on ladies, surely you are tougher than your wimpy husbands. Here’s your chance to prove your might and hurt them good all at the same time. Even if I do end up being the only woman at our next epic battle, be prepared boys cause there’s a whole lot more paint and pain where that came from!

Rachel April 4, 2012 No Comments

My Secret Life as a Leprechaun

I discovered recently, after long holding beliefs to the contrary, that I am in fact part Irish. I’ve always enjoyed celebrating St. Patty’s Day, even when I wasn’t Irish, but now I can pompously claim that I’m just honoring my heritage when pinching greenless bystanders mercilessly.

‘Tis the wee feet of little lucky lads.

This year I decided to do something a wee bit special for my nieces and nephews to pay homage to The Emerald Isle. I sewed tiny drawstring bags out of appropriately festive fabric and filled them with chocolate coins. Then, when my family had their St. Patrick’s Day get-together, I arrived early to simulate a leprechaun visit with tiny footprints and a series of notes that led to the end of the rainbow. My leprechaun treasure hunt was a mystical success! Sadly, after all that work, not all of the kiddies were able to be present but the ones that were seemed to find it as magically delicious as I intended.

These bags may look super simple but without a pattern they took more ingenuity to make than you might think.

Seeing as I’m not quite short enough to be a leprechaun, I have vowed to give up my shamrock shenanigans for now. Who knows though, maybe next year I will break out the little feet and gold-laden cauldron again. After all, people have been telling me for years that I look elfish so maybe, considering my newfound Irish ancestry, my impish charades are only a wee stretch.

Rachel March 28, 2012 2 Comments
 Categories

Recent Posts

Recent Comments
Blogroll