Last week, Laura and her husband (and my brother) Greg came over to my place for Easter festivites: He Is Risen, Bitches. We boiled 36 eggs, discussed future artistic ventures excitedly, and readied the archaic PAAS dying kit brought by Greg and Laura. If you haven't seen one of these in a while, they haven't changed since the 1950s, and still contain arbitrary supplies in addition to color tablets, including a sheet-full of trashy cute animal stickers, a cross or two, a few esoteric egg shrink-wrappers, and the memorable bronze octagonal dipping-majig. I drained the flaming hot, finger-scorching, crayon-melting eggs as a reverential silence decended upon the kitchen. We took to the eggs with steady focus. At some point my brother introduced experimental olive oil into several of the dyes, for which he was punched and kicked many times. We melted gold crayons in oil over the stove, and finished by combining all eleven mugs of oily dye to produce a final inedible and slippery SuperEgg. The resulting egg/objects were totally pretty, and we re-dyed or ate the less pretty examples.
To conclude, I advocate year-round egg dying. Not only are dyed eggs very handsome, but they make midnight fridge rummages quick and painless, and they're easy to toss into a sack for later consumption. And why spend another night emptying you wallet at a bar when you could stay home and drink and make something beautiful that packs well?
Love,
nambot
