eggs, eggs, everywhere
There’s this really tacky pick up line I heard in a movie once. Or maybe it was on a date once…don’t judge me.
The guy says, “Hey Baby, how do you like your eggs in the morning?” And then I come back with…I mean the woman comes back with the zinger, “Unfertilized.”
This has absolutely nothing to do with the eggs I’m talking about, but every time I pull eggs from the coop, that line is running through my head.
Of course, our eggs are fertilized, thanks to resident cock, Clooney. And no, it never gets old calling that pain in the ass rooster a cock. I laugh every time I type it. But as much as he would like to go forth and multiply, the chickens have no desire to sit on their eggs. So we pull them everyday, filling our egg basket to the brim.
I boiled over a dozen eggs today. I gave another dozen to the neighbors a few days ago. I used a few more in a salad. My husband made an omelet for breakfast. And I still have almost two dozen eggs in the basket. I’m collecting egg recipes. I’m contemplating making a pound cake and custard for the hell of it. And I’ll still have eggs coming out of my ears.
But you won’t hear me complaining. I may get tired of eating eggs, but if the zombies show up, I can always chuck the eggs at them to slow them down. Hey, it could work.
Until the next time…I’ll be dreaming of eggs.