Happy Egg Day! 
The following is from emails exchanged this week with my bestest oldest friend. First comes her piece:
This is an Easter greeting from my manic mind on cold-medicine...
The best Easter I had is when I lived with C in the Red House and we did the mudslide and tang-martinis in those plastic eggs and all the fags had baskets with ice in them.
They werent even baskets, because when we went early that morning to Rite Aid to get the baskets on close-out, all there was was this big wire bin and a few straggler blades of green plastic grass on the floor. So we went to United Market and got several rolls of pastel-colored Saran wrap and a bunch of their paper grocery bags, then we went home and took the handles off the bags, cut the bags down to 5 inches, then reattached the handles and lined them with the fairy-colored Saran wrap, then loaded them with ice. We thought we were SO innovative!
This was when we knew everyone in Vs apartment building and B lived with V. It was kind of a neighbor-thing, but with all my gay boyfriends from The SLANT era. I have never seen adults act so much like excited kids. We all drank the shots from the little plastic eggs, then we played Badminton in the driveway.
There are some moments you just wish you could re-live. Every time I think about that Easter, I smile.
() () () () () () () () () <---- eggs
My reply:
Well, in my reality, we've replaced 'easter' with Egg Day, aka
Keister. It's all about ham and egg veneration...too bad you don't
like ham! It's iconic for the Pinwheel campers. I make a killer glaze
with marmalade and mustard.
Our Egg Day excitement began in 88, when between A, D and
myself, and the bus people living with them, we had thirteen kids, no
money, and a lot of time on our hands. We put together a treasure
hunt for the adults, the kind where each person gets a clue, and then
has to search for the subsequent clues hidden all over the summer
camp they lived at at the time. Each person had a theme, and with
each clue was a small prize relating to their theme. Once they found
all their clues and figured out their theme, they got their grand
prize... R's was a six pack of Guinness, of course.
We had an egg hunt for the kids, monumental... like 96 eggs, as I
recall. We hid some in the kiddy playground for the littlest hunters,
and I'll always remember baby Wes, who was about 1.5: When he
actually found an egg, he stood there admiring it and shouting EGG!
He never did pick it up, but he was one happy egg hunter.
That was the year we developed the system of having the kids turn in
all eggs found, and we'd put them back in the cartons so we knew if
they were all found. If there were still eggs out, back the kids went
to keep looking. As the kids grew older, we began rehiding eggs while
they were looking, and could keep them hunting for hours while we
cooked and drank. This worked well until Beau was about 14. That year
we had some fancy artistic and distinctive eggs out. About an hour
into the hunt, Beau came walking into the living room carrying an egg
painted to look like the globe. He looked at us all and said, "OK. I
already found this egg once. Have you guys been hiding them again?"
We all collapsed in laughter as he yelled, "How long has this been
going on?! I'm changing sides!" And grabbed a pile of eggs to rehide.
A true rite of passage.
() () () () () () ()
The following is from emails exchanged this week with my bestest oldest friend. First comes her piece:
This is an Easter greeting from my manic mind on cold-medicine...
The best Easter I had is when I lived with C in the Red House and we did the mudslide and tang-martinis in those plastic eggs and all the fags had baskets with ice in them.
They werent even baskets, because when we went early that morning to Rite Aid to get the baskets on close-out, all there was was this big wire bin and a few straggler blades of green plastic grass on the floor. So we went to United Market and got several rolls of pastel-colored Saran wrap and a bunch of their paper grocery bags, then we went home and took the handles off the bags, cut the bags down to 5 inches, then reattached the handles and lined them with the fairy-colored Saran wrap, then loaded them with ice. We thought we were SO innovative!
This was when we knew everyone in Vs apartment building and B lived with V. It was kind of a neighbor-thing, but with all my gay boyfriends from The SLANT era. I have never seen adults act so much like excited kids. We all drank the shots from the little plastic eggs, then we played Badminton in the driveway.
There are some moments you just wish you could re-live. Every time I think about that Easter, I smile.
() () () () () () () () () <---- eggs
My reply:
Well, in my reality, we've replaced 'easter' with Egg Day, aka
Keister. It's all about ham and egg veneration...too bad you don't
like ham! It's iconic for the Pinwheel campers. I make a killer glaze
with marmalade and mustard.
Our Egg Day excitement began in 88, when between A, D and
myself, and the bus people living with them, we had thirteen kids, no
money, and a lot of time on our hands. We put together a treasure
hunt for the adults, the kind where each person gets a clue, and then
has to search for the subsequent clues hidden all over the summer
camp they lived at at the time. Each person had a theme, and with
each clue was a small prize relating to their theme. Once they found
all their clues and figured out their theme, they got their grand
prize... R's was a six pack of Guinness, of course.
We had an egg hunt for the kids, monumental... like 96 eggs, as I
recall. We hid some in the kiddy playground for the littlest hunters,
and I'll always remember baby Wes, who was about 1.5: When he
actually found an egg, he stood there admiring it and shouting EGG!
He never did pick it up, but he was one happy egg hunter.
That was the year we developed the system of having the kids turn in
all eggs found, and we'd put them back in the cartons so we knew if
they were all found. If there were still eggs out, back the kids went
to keep looking. As the kids grew older, we began rehiding eggs while
they were looking, and could keep them hunting for hours while we
cooked and drank. This worked well until Beau was about 14. That year
we had some fancy artistic and distinctive eggs out. About an hour
into the hunt, Beau came walking into the living room carrying an egg
painted to look like the globe. He looked at us all and said, "OK. I
already found this egg once. Have you guys been hiding them again?"
We all collapsed in laughter as he yelled, "How long has this been
going on?! I'm changing sides!" And grabbed a pile of eggs to rehide.
A true rite of passage.
() () () () () () ()
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
Thanks for the good wishes too. The Moonlit Arabian Nights show indeed went very well.
And here's eggs for you: () () () () () () ()