Bliss = Eggs Over Easy

Happy January everyone!  I hope your holidays were lovely and peaceful.  Ours were and I’m grateful.  Now it’s January and I love this month!  I’ve been cleaning out closets and drawers, throwing things away, selling clothes I don’t need and hardly ever wear, and trying to simplify my life even more.

Do you like simple things?  I do.  I love beautiful things that are simple and honest, without a lot of hype.  Food that is delicious, but not hoity-toity.  Clothes that are classic, well-made, and will last for years, but that not everyone else has.  Shoes that are comfortable, but also pretty.  A home decorated by our family’s adventures and experiences, personal art work, talents, and achievements, instead of purchased from the store.  The perfectly soft and squishy, down feather pillow.   A car that gets good gas mileage, blazes through the snow, and will last to 200K miles.
I’ve been thinking about lessons my family and I learned in 2014.  Many were happy and exciting, others were sad and difficult, leaving wounds still waiting to heal.  I don’t make resolutions.  I don’t like the word.  I like goals, but I don’t ever set more than one or two at a time, or they won’t be accomplished.  I also don’t usually share my goals with other people because I don’t want people having expectations of me.
I want to have my own triumphs and accomplish things for the right reasons.
One thing I learned about myself in 2014 is that I like runny eggs.  Please bring me poached eggs and eggs over easy, and some rye toast to dip them in.  And, please kill me now because for my whole life I have missed out on this lovely, simple, and beautifully yummy treat.  Oh, the humanity !  At my house when I was a kid, when frying eggs, my mom poked the yolks so they would cook hard.  The scrambled eggs were really little yellow crusts.  I grew up paranoid that runny eggs were raw eggs, or bad eggs.  One day last year I realized that although I have never been a picky eater, I had never even tried the runny eggs.  I had been pre-conditioned to think they were bad and gross, so I had always ordered something else or prepared them differently for my own family.  Although, to my credit, I don’t make gross, yellow crusts for scrambled eggs.  My husband is the scrambled egg king.  His eggs are super delicious.
I digress.
One day when out to breakfast I decided to live dangerously and order eggs over easy with a side of rye toast.  Can I just say, oh my heck!  It was so delicious, I had no words!  I couldn’t believe that as a child I had been robbed of this yummy-ness and that it took me 50 years to decide for myself to try runny eggs.  Each bite of the toast dipped into the egg was like a bit of warm, summer sunshine in my tummy.  Bliss.  Then, as often happens when I get excited about something, I became obsessed with making the perfect eggs.  I wanted the perfect combination of soft yolk, but enough of the runny egg for my rye toast.
Voila!  It happened as a little miracle just this week.  I had a doctor appointment south of downtown and had a lunch date with my handsome husband afterwards.  I had an hour to kill in between so I wandered into Crate & Barrel to have a look-see.  I gave myself a small budget to spend, hoping to find some treasure to inspire my new culinary goals for the year.  Then I saw it!  A pan made just for poaching eggs.  I knew I had to have it!  Then I found a crepe pan, straight from France, and knew that was on the list also.  So I left the store with my egg-poaching pan, my crepe pan, a new French wire whisk, a jumbo spice ball herb infuser, and a bright, new, and happy apron.  I was ready to get cooking.  Dinner that night would be crepes and eggs.  I stopped at the store for some berries and Nutella.  Soon I was home, washing and preparing my new culinary tools.  Happy face!  The crepes were beautiful, light and delicious.  A real French hit!
But, the eggs were beauty personified in yellow and white.
Four minutes was all it took for heaven to slip out onto toasted bread.
A symphony of warm, yellow goodness.
I have already made eggs three more times.  It makes me happy.  I’m actually glad it took 50 years to discover this simple and delicious new taste and now skill.  I wonder, what else have I been wrong about for 50 years?  Just because someone else, like your parent, doesn’t like runny eggs, doesn’t mean you can’t like them.  And just because your mom hates cats doesn’t mean you have to.
Why a post about eggs?  You might say, Gina has lost her mind.  Maybe I have, OR, maybe I’ve found it.  Bottom line, people.  We don’t have to like or dislike what others tell us to like or dislike.  We are all created to be unique individuals and with our own set of talents and gifts.  We are not supposed to be copycats of one another!  Just because my neighbors all go to Disneyland 27 times a year doesn’t make us want to go.  We don’t care about Disneyland (gasp!)  We would rather see Alaska, ride the ferry to the Outer Banks, go on adventures looking for lighthouses, study the tide pools of Oregon, eat North Carolina BBQ (vinegar!), go river rafting, go whale watching, go to Chinatown (Sam Wo’s), eat at Houston’s, ride motorcycles in the Dominican Republic, swim in the Caribbean ocean, hike waterfalls in the rainforest, and pile 22 people in a broken-down Toyota Corolla taxi tied together with chicken wire.  If Disneyland really speaks to your soul, I guess that’s up to you, but don’t go there 42 times per year just because everyone else does, and don’t go there just because it’s the only place your parents ever took you.
Maybe they were scared to have other adventures.  Maybe they were scared of runny eggs.
One thing about my upcoming 2015.  It’s now runny eggs all the time.  No more hard, rubbery, gross yolks.  I want to be in the warm, glowing sunshine.  Obviously, hard eggs are served to us on lots of days because things happen to us that we don’t choose.  But, when I can choose, and I believe I can always choose my attitude about things, I will choose the eggs that are sunny-side up or over easy.  Life is hard enough to eat hard eggs.  Eggs over easy sound a lot more happy, a lot more doable, a lot more fun.  The way I see it is, if I am given hard eggs, I will be grateful and I will eat them and appreciate them for what they can do for me.  But when I can choose, I will always choose eggs over easy.
Here is hoping that 2015 will bring us all blessings and happiness, even when eating the hard eggs served to us through others’ choices and actions, failing health, or just life itself.  On those days, I will remember eggs over easy and how it only takes 4 minutes to make them perfectly, how because of the atonement of Jesus Christ, even my hard-egg days can be made easy again because of His love and sacrifice.
I just have to choose His way, which is easy, or the world’s way, which is hard.  Which will you choose?  For this girl, it will always be eggs over easy, with a side of rye, dry.


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