In retrospect: Easter Eggs

Remember a few months ago, when I told you about my Easter egg-making extravaganza? Well, here's how it turned out (thank you to the photographer extraordinaire for the lighting and also for caring enough to take pictures of the first Easter eggs I make as an adult):

Eggs eggs eggs.

Once upon a time, when I was a child, Easter meant thinking hard on religious themes, being confused about it all and then and going to church for what seemed like a super long time. On Palm Sunday, a week before, I was really excited because that meant that nice lady with a fluffy cardigan gave me a palm branch to make a little woven box with, the meaning of which was completely lost to me. All I was hoping for was that my grandfather would give me his palm branch once it was woven. He was really good at weaving his little box into shape, and I'd try to mimic his moves with great care. (I would not be able to do it today if I had a gun to my temple. Well, I would probably come up with some variation.)

My grandfather had this smile in the left corner of his mouth - I suspect his mind was struggling between being kind of frustrated with me wanting his palm thing (thus not getting the meaning of it all) and finding me cute. I was, after all, the first grandchild in both families. They're always the cutest. He evidently tried to explain the whole thing to me, and I was so impressed about the part where people laid their garments and palm branches on Jesus' path I would think about it every time I walked on anything remotely leaf-like outside. I think I probably got caught once walking on my clothes on the floor in my room. Just kidding.

Nowadays, Easter becomes an excuse to eat chocolate or have a family gathering. To me, it is a great holiday, for now I get four days off to do fun things. This year, we're going to our friends' home for part of the weekend, and the weather is supposed to be lovely. We're talking twenty-two degrees and sunny. Smells like skirts, t-shirts and good music to me. Also sounds an awful lot like little paper umbrellas in drinks and dancing barefoot in the grass. (Although, at this time of year in our neck o'the woods, no grass, alas. It's okay, I'll settle for dancing close to the muck mixed with snow that will one day become grass.) Anyhow, I was talking about Easter. Sorry, I got distracted with this weekend's thing. Back to Easter.

I have been looking for a very cool recipe to make for our weekend feast. I have not found anything that made me go 'wow', so I've changed my mind. Instead, I've decided to make Easter eggs. I told The Man I would be wasting six eggs from the fridge. He smiled and said: "Oh cool when my mom did that when I was a kid it looked like a serious pain in the ass." And so off I went, trotted into the kitchen, opened the fridge, picked the nicest brown eggs from the crate (or whatever it's called), and poked holes top and bottom. Found a bowl, and blew the crap out of them to empty the shells. It was really fun. It brought me back to my childhood, to my kindergarten class, I think.

Tomorrow I will paint the eggs with acrylic, in nice patterns, and coat them with matte medium to make them nice and shiny. I'll make a nice gift basket for my friends and I'll be happy to have made an Easter thing while conjuring so many happy childhood memories.

Right now, there are six eggs drying in my dish rack and I'm working really hard not to stay up till two in the morning to paint them now.

Creative Juices.

Good evening, Awaiting Gorgeousnesses!

First of all, I'd like to say this:

WOOOO! We beat Russia 7-3! I didn't actually get to watch the game last night, but man, I wish I had. And now, we'll crush the U.S. in the finals. It's the logical thing to do, right?

And now, to quote Monty Python, for something completely different.

Last night, as I was desperately trying to breathe through my nose (which - by the way - is a thing we take for granted, I assure you), I had a great plan. Since I'm the living incarnation of Germville right now, I decided to spread the joy, or at least scare The Man into thinking I was spreading the joy. I wanted to leave him a note which said: "I've sneezed on your pillow. Sweet dreams honey! xoxo" But I got kind of carried away and wrote him a full-fledged, 8-page book on tabloid-sized (11" X 17") sheets of paper. I had an absolute ball! I've promised myself I would scan it and try to post it here, just to show you guys I can draw.

It includes pictures of a naked princess with pink hair, germs bouncing on a bed and a rhyming story, so, I mean, it's a surefire winner, right? It was worth the three hours it took me to make it, just to see the look on The Man's face as he read it. I'll try to get it on here as soon as possible. I'm kinda proud of it.

Cheers, Legion of Fans!

Another Thing.

I got so absorbed with the duck story, I completely forgot to tell you I’ve accepted my non-ability to draw comics. It’s okay, not everybody is good at everything. I’ll leave drawing to the pros. Tortaluga, thank you for believing in me.

I am concentrating on “sculpture” these days, and am happily (and finally - been wanting to do this for a loooong time) building little mini Squibbits. What? What’s a Squibbit? Okay. Here’s a Squibbit.

I went to my favorite craft store with a friend. I explained to her what I wanted to do. She suggested a bunch of different materials and was very patient. I settled on a few possibilities and am currently experimenting. Results look promising.

There are a couple for you in the making, Brig, I’ll let you know as soon as they’re in the mail. If only I had a camera, I could post pics of them. Someday, perhaps.

Want.

The wall is right in front of me, and I have several options.

I could either sit on the ground, with my back against it, attempt to climb it with a ladder of some sort, or just back up a few hundred paces, take a swig of water, get a running start, and jump right over it. Whoosh. Just like that, in one swift motion.

(Damn – I’d look good.)

I like that wall – it’s making me think.

Tired of metaphors, Immense Crowd of Faithful Readers? Okay. So am I.

I’ve been delving into the wonderful endless universe(s) of blogs and have recently discovered a fascination for comics. You know, graphic novels, like. They make me laugh out loud. They make me think. I’m reading V for Vendetta these days. Whew. Good stuff. And with my reddened eyes full of tears, I had a – you know – a eureka moment. Where’s my drum roll?

I could draw my own! (Note to self: staring at a screen for over an hour: not good)

That’s right. I have tons of paper down in my craftycraft room (yessss, Ladies & Gents, I have one of those.) not to mention a table I never sit at. And a good lamp. I have a shoebox full of pens that are, at this point, probably planning a riot, since I never use them. Don’t I have everything I need? What? Technique? Pff. Technique schmechnique. I can doodle.

So you see the wall, now?

Either I:

a) Keep enjoying the warm fuzzy rays of other people’s drawings. Extract the goodness like coconut juice and store it somewhere in my brain. Or;
b) Learn some tricks of the trade. Take some drawing lessons. Talk to the people I know who have drawn for at least as long as I’ve known them (phew – 17 years…). Ooooor;
c) Just. Draw.

I’ll keep you posted and let you know how things turn out. You wanna vote? You can vote, if you want.

http://www.dccomics.com/sites/v_for_vendetta/