General Conference is always a feast and, particularly on Saturday, it's also a marathon. There's a lot to absorb, and in between and around listening sessions there are meals and family time and extended family and friends time and hopefully a walk and . . . .
Rob and I watched GC via the internet, by ourselves at home. Rob brought in his "knitting" from the studio, which means he quietly worked on sewing together screens for a new papermaking mould. I broke out the laptop and tried to make notes about whatever grabbed me.
During the break between the morning and afternoon session, we went to Sam's Club where apparently it was Big Cheese Day—and oh, what samples! Cheese! Cheese and crackers! More cheeses! Lamb! (Lamb?!) Cheesecake! I thought we would be late getting home because Rob was so excited about one of the samples that he got back in a long line. Something went wrong and slowed the sample ladies way down. It's a good thing they finally delivered that extra lamb sample; I think Rob might have waited for it the rest of the day.
Later when the second conference session was over, Rob got ready and left to save seats for his dad and brothers for the priesthood session. That left me on my own till it was time to gather with the women of the family. I was pretty hungry (only had samples for lunch) so I looked in the fridge for a little non-cheese something to take the edge off my hunger, figuring I'd eat with the ladies in a while.
My eyes fell upon the last of the beautiful brown eggs. This was the one I'd been saving, my favorite of three dozen. Just look at the freckles, wouldja?
No kidding, I formed an emotional attachment to this egg. I'd originally thought of blowing out its insides so I could keep the shell, but decided instead to make A Symbolic Occasion of cooking and eating it. And so, with much ceremony and some olive oil, I fried it, I ate it, and then waxed appropriately appreciative and wistful. That was one delicious egg. Perfect.
Funny, though, it turned out to set the tone for the rest of the evening, which was focused entirely on eggs, chicks, and all their wonderful plumage—a hen party! Here's what happens when all the men go away for a few hours. (I need to amend that—there was one young nephew on the premises, but he had a date with a computer game.)
Decorating an Easter tree, wrapping eggs in onion skins, then bundling them with cloth and string for the dye pot.
My namesake, eating Easter grass.
The champion egg blower.
Our eggs after going onion skin-ny dipping. Pretty, no?
An exotic bird.
They don't call them fascinators for nothing.
Chicks dig 'em!
Time to try some curls on the girls.
Rag rollers—for beauty on a budget. Quote of the night—while E. was enduring the terrible tuggings of the rag-rolling process, she waxed thoughtful: "When the men are gone, it's so peaceful."
E.'s BEFORE shot. (Just wait till Sunday!)