SSSHHHH… they don’t know I don’t know what I am doing.

I don't know how many of you have noticed, I don't know what I am doing. Blog is fun but really? I am just a little worried. What does my life really have to be interesting? My family already knows that I am crazy. Do I really have the right to spread my craziness? Who cares? I can't see my blog setting the internet a blaze with my wit and sarcasm. 

Making potato salad for Easter tomorrow. Looks like I have made enough for an army!  Well, it keeps well in the fridge. Need Corn bread…. oh shit tomorrow will be fine. Good night all and may you find all of your eggs!! That reminds me of a story……


We were living in Englewood, we must have been on the Cherokee street about a 1/2 block from Clayton. Spring came and the Grandparents and Aunt Jo came to our house for an Easter egg hunt. We had a dog, named Judy. Golden Retriever and Irish setter mix. Beautiful. We were all excited about the egg hunt. Well, the Grandparents were late as usual. But when we finally got to hunt for eggs, we were all excited, back in those days toys and candy really weren’t the focus of the hunt. Seeing how many eggs we each could find. Aunt Jo helped me because I was the youngest. We all brought out baskets to the picnic table to be counted. We thought we had done about 2 dozen eggs, well in all of the counting and excitement. We must have missed at least one and probably two. Well, Mom had cooked the ham and we all peeled the eggs for potato salad and deviled eggs. When Mom finally got to a place where she could count the eggs, Dad had managed to sneak a couple of the deviled eggs, so even that count was not really accurate. We kids thought it was great fun looking for every last egg!

That was in March…fast forward a couple of months. Some where about mid July – my birthday party I think. The Grandparents were late again but we were all waiting in the back yard. We had spaghetti and meat sauce (Still my favorite!) because it was my bday I got to pick the menu. Cake of course home-made cake. We had been out in the back yard plenty of times over the last couple of months. Suddenly we smelled a really bad odor, Grandma asked Mom how much garlic was in the sauce. Not that much Mom said. But the order kept getting worse every time the dog walked past. We had a little bit of a hill that had different levels on it. Mom put a garden in the bottom one but thought the top was a little too unsteady to plant much.

By the time we figured out that the dog was the source of the really bad smell, We saw her rolling around in the upper part of the levels. Mom, Dad both Grandparents said almost in unison. “EASTER EGG!!” Yep, Judy the dog had found the missing (and miscounted) eggs!! Moving the celebration inside we kept the dog in the back yard until after dinner and then the chore became finding the egg (s?) by this time the stinky mess was unidentifiable as one or two or MORE, eggs.

Thinking that this was a great game, she would roll in the smell and run as closely as she could to us without getting caught. About the time Mom stepped out the back door, she grabbed her by the tail. Knowing that the fun was over she sat looking pitiful and wet as we washed her down, she then returned the favor by showering us all with her smelly dog soaked body. Grandma and Grandpa chose this time to “head back to the poor farm”.

Dad was tasked with finding the offending pile of eggs. Mom thought that the dog would probably dig them up if he tried to bury them so they were stuck in a brown paper bag (remember them?) inside another brown paper bag taped shut and stuck at the bottom the trash barrel.

Judy looked like we had killed her nearest and dearest friend. She sat looking at the barrel for quite a while. I am convinced that she was trying to think of a way to dig down in the trash and recover her treasure.

The next Easter we ALL made sure we knew how many eggs were hidden. and they all got put back in the egg carton. I would like to say that this stopped the dog rolling in smelly stuff but any of you who have had dogs know they will always find SOMEthing smelly to roll in. Like dead fish on a fishing trip…. but that is another story.



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