Easter week

Weather has continued to cooperate for Caleb’s game schedule.  He’s only had one rained out so far and I haven’t sat through any in freezing temperatures. 

The Tiny House has been the gift that keeps giving, as we work our way through our wine shop purchases.

I bought this one for the label.

Shortly before Easter the conversation turned to how my siblings and I used to dye Easter eggs with the old Paas kit—dissolve the different colored tablets in cups and then soak the eggs, but if you want to be cool and have an egg two different colors, you had to hold it with the little wire thingy halfway in the water, keeping it at exactly the right height for a straight line, and then you flip it over and hold it again in another color.  And so you sit there forever (because you want a nice dark color, obviously) until your arm cramps up and you’re shaking from holding it just so.

Well.  Ada raised her eyebrows as I was explaining this, and the question arose:  Why didn’t you just put it in a smaller cup so you didn’t have to hold it?

Why not…use…a smaller…cup…

Yes.  Yes, it did take me until I was 41 to think of this.

Meanwhile, Ada heard you could dye eggs with shaving cream and food coloring, so she gathered her younger siblings and they did this in about 15 minutes, no arm cramping required:

Kids these days.

Easter Sunday was a promising spring day, warm enough for an outdoor egg hunt.

Digging for worms to feed to the chicks.

We took the week after Easter for a second spring break (we had one in March as well).  On Monday I promised to take Liz and Caleb shopping for shoes and summer clothes.  Then Monday morning it did this:

It’s just flurries, right?  Shopping had to be done, so I took them anyway.

Over the course of the day it changed from rain to sleet to mixed to snow and by the time all was said and done we had two inches of slushy, sleety snow on the ground, which made for a harrowing drive home from the mall that I needed a few days to recover from.

Wednesday was the scheduled day for my semiannual shopping trip with Ada, by which time, thankfully, the snow had melted.  Below, IKEA.

Then on Friday we visited Nana and Grandpa, whose house I hadn’t been to for ages.

It was warm enough by then to get sweaty and sunburnt walking on the greenway.

And then Nana served us shrimp cocktail out of my grandmother’s wedding crystal, because that’s how classy we are.

Tiny House

Jason’s trust in me was put to the test when I told him I had a whole weekend planned for his birthday and to pack his bag and get in the car.

Happily, he complied and grew ever more mystified as we took turn after turn, finally eliminating all his guessed destinations, and yet on we drove.  I was delighted, since it really is a trick to pull off a surprise for someone you live with and share a credit card with.

Finally we arrived…at a wine superstore.  Which delighted but confused him all the more.

I told him we were merely picking up part of his birthday present on the way to the true destination—and maybe a couple extra bottles, so we got a hand basket on our way in, but…wow.  We have never seen a wine store like this.  

We went back for a cart.

13 bottles later, we hopped back in the car.  A few minutes later we pulled in the driveway of a gigantic house in an unknown neighborhood and Jason was completely bewildered.  “Do we know these people?”  I’m pretty sure he thought we were in the wrong place and they were going to come out shooting.

But no.  *I* had booked my first-ever Airbnb and was merely checking in with our host, who lives in a gigantic house and rents out…the Tiny House.

When we walked in it was dark except for the flickering (fake) fireplace, and quiet but for the period-appropriate music softly playing.  By the time we set our bags down and looked around, there was a knock on the door and behold! A picnic basket with a (not tiny) charcuterie board:  the other half of the wine-and-cheese birthday present from some loving aunties.

Half the cheese board and a good start on the wine made a full and comfortable dinner, whence we retired to the Tiny Bedroom a tiny step away from the Tiny Dining Room.

Few things are so soothing after a night like that than room service, so just when Jason was wondering if he should take me to breakfast, another knock on the door and behold! A picnic basket filled with fresh pancakes, hash browns, sausage, orange juice, bananas, oatmeal, toast, coffee, and cream; in short, an enormous birthday breakfast after which the birthday boy wanted to enjoy nothing more than a return to bed.

The house was extremely comfortable, well-supplied, convenient…and adorable.

Everything was tiny!

I finally had to wake Jason up in the early afternoon to pretend I was hungry so I could take him out to lunch at a delicious Greek diner.  Also because I knew we needed to vacate the Tiny House, so we could return to…

Fancy birthday cupcakes.

The table was fully decked out with a lacy tablecloth, formal place settings, a cupcake stand, ice cream in the freezer, fruit punch in the fridge, and a birthday balloon tied to his chair.  

It was like a birthday party for a 5-year-old.

The kids had sent along cards for him to open, and I let him know that their gift to him was yet another package:  the very popular Firepit Package, which comes with access to the fire pit, wood, kindling, starter, blankets, and a s’mores kit.

The fire pit was set up for us that afternoon while we lounged inside.

We fired it up after dinner out.

Saturday I took him to a fancy brunch place, and then he found a pretty walking trail that led downtown, so we spent some time poking around there and walking along a stream.  That night we made a satisfying dinner of the rest of the charcuterie and some bonus snacks that our hosts had provided on arrival.

After our weekend I left a rave 5-star review for our host and the Tiny House.  On Airbnb you apparently get reviewed as a guest as well.  This was my host’s impression:  “Mindy stayed at our tiny house.  She was polite and a good guest.”

So, thanks, Mom, for raising me right.  I officially turned out polite and a good guest.  I know you’re proud.  

Also, I’m not banned on Airbnb, so, win-win.