Scrambled Eggs

My family never ceases to amaze me. I mean that in the broadest sense of the word. I suppose they always make me laugh.. But sometimes it's one of those "oh my lord" laughs. Which is why, I guess, I love them so damn much.

We're going to be in Burma for Easter, so my mother decided that last Sunday would be our easter dinner. She cooked a big ham and scalloped potatoes and all that jazz, it was excellent. We invited Bryan over (Roselyn the cook thinks he eats so much because he's lonely. Hmm. *laugh*) to help with the ham eating, and sat down to dinner around 6:30.

Anybody who's ever eaten a meal with my family knows what a hoot it can be. I am the lucky recipient of one of the kindest, funniest families on earth - and there is nothing quite like watching my brother and my dad laugh silently at the table. There being 3 young people at the table, the talk turned to JackAss, and the explanation of said show to my parents. I thought I was going to die. It was so funny. Bryan was in pain he was laughing so hard, my father was crying, and my brother looked like he was repetatively making the sign of the cross, although I think he was just trying to breath. We must have laughed for a good half an hour, everytime we'd manage to stop somebody would slip back into giggles and we'd be off again.

Now, my lovely mother has had a little bit of trouble letting tradition slip away. Although our home no longer holds three children (we're 20, 18, and 14) she insisted (not that we tried very hard to disuade her) that we have an Easter Egg hunt after dinner, post dishes. But, seeing as how we were older, we would have to do it in the dark with flashlights.

Lucky for me, I've got Mr. Mountaineering-river fjording-lizard eating-special forces on my side (and we all know they have the best bad ass gear) so I got to use what looked suspiciously like and OBGYN headset with a big light on the front. My brother and sister had to use regular old un-special flashlights. Well - maybe not true.

This wouldn't be a true McQuade celebration if somebody didn't hurt themselves. My mother has a special sneak attack flashlight, that's actually a stun gun. You just connect the handle at a certain spot, turn it on, and voila, your own special Indian Cooker. She had just been to old Delhi that afternoon, wherein she keeps it connectd (though turned off) in her purse in case of emergency.

She forgot.

Our home has this eerie ability to fall silent whenever anyone is about to do something embarrasing, perhaps to maximize either the embarrassment or the humour, I'm not sure which. But the house was silent when my mother turned on her flashlight and a sound akin to a large bug-zapper preceded the screaming akin to a banshee. She was fine, a little numb, a little angry, but cogniscient enough to swear Bryan to complete secrecy. And so, the hunt began.

We're a fairly communist family at heart. There are a couple rules to our egg hunt - Eggs are hid in 3's, and you can only take one. (Apparently, when there are 4, you can only take 1 as well.. which I found out the hard way after Bryan tattled on me and I had to face the Bunny Tribunal.) After a certain point (decided by the egg hiders) you can go back and pick up everything than anyone else hasn't found. Basically futile, because when the hunt is over, we sit down and divide all the eggs into respective colour groups, then evenly divide them among the kids. It's been this way since I can remember there being more than one kid in our house.

So, we hunted, we gathered, we divided. It was wonderful. My mother has come up with yet another excellent way to extend tradition in our family. I can only hope that when I have kids I can do the same.. or at least make them laugh when I cause myself bodily harm. The things you learn from your Mom. So Happy Easter in advance everyone, enjoy the egg hunts. Or heck, just watch Jackass and stick a fork in a socket. You can feel just like you were at my house!