food, crochet, merriment
Looky what we have…
My little daughter–Jillian, graduated from BYU on Friday with a Bachelor’s Degree in Family History.
Congratulations my Dah-ling. We are so proud of you. Now you are clever, all knowing, brilliant, and wise. But the best part is…
You’re FREE!
“President Hinckley . . . admonished both men and women to be nurturers. He said, ‘How much more beautiful would be the . . . society in which we live if every father . . . and . . . mother regarded [their] children . . . as gifts from the God of heaven. . . and brought them up with true affection in the wisdom and admonition of the Lord”
I tell the bald kid that all he needs to do in this life is:
1- Throw shot-put at the Olympics
2- Get his face on a Wheaties box
3- Make a million dollars
4- Buy his mother a house…in Scotland
That’s it. No big deal.
Maybe I’m rushing the list a bit with my Wheaties box. I figured it would be fabulous inspiration. He does look great–doesn’t he?
Now, he’s 1/4 of the way there.
I’ll wait patiently for the rest…
I guess.
Having “sporty” boys in our house always means—that eggs are on the menu. Anytime. Any way.
Want to strike terror in the heart of one of my sons? Just shout, “We’re out of eggs!”
I’m not kidding.
Many a job in these parts, has been accomplished with the promise of an omelet, fried egg sandwich or a scrambled plate. If someone needs cheering up after a disappointing game–we whip up the Classic Egg Bake.
Beats a LifeSaver any day.
When the whole troop is here we make what the bald kid calls “a full skillet.” No, I don’t eat that sausage–
–but the big boys will fight over it–so I let them.
They are bigger than me.
In truth, I could probably get the house painted in exchange for those Egg Cups–that we save for Easter.
Since omelets are the quickest, I probably make them the most—luckily, they are really easy.
Melt a dab of butter in a small non-stick skillet. That’s probably too much in the picture–I know. So a little less than that.
Whip 1-2 or 3 eggs–depending on the size and hunger level of your audience–in a cup or bowl. I use a glass measuring cup and a fork. Add salt and pepper.
Pour into hot pan.
Gently scoot the edges of the cooking egg toward the middle of the pan–letting the raw egg move to the edges. Do this all the way around the pan…
…until there is hardly any undone egg left. Keep your heat down so that the egg doesn’t cook too much or scorch. I can’t stand brown egg–blaugh!
You may need a larger spatula than I was using to carefully turn the whole egg over. I’ve been really impressive at times and flipped the egg over in the air. I’ve also humiliated myself on numerous occasions by missing the pan entirely and wasting someones breakfast on the floor. So, I’d say–do “air flips” or flops as the case may be–at your own risk.
I use a big spatula.
Add cheese, or bacon bits, or ham or veggies.
Fold egg in half and rest the spatula on top-for a minute or so, to keep the egg from unfolding. Garnish with shredded cheese.
Feed it to the masses.
You’ll be worshiped as a Goddess…
..and life will be complete.
Week #6 Food Storage Prompt is:
1- Bottle of Asprin (500 count)
Don’t be afraid—or disappointed–this is not a post about kissing. Well not completely. It might, possibly come up, in passing–but that would purely be a coincidence.
It’s much more about the pre-kiss thing people do…you know…the PUCKER. I sincerely believe that some people are genetically predisposed to a natural pucker–whether or not they have any prospects close at hand. They just scrunch up their lips like they are just waiting for something.
Don’t you find that odd?
I do. Especially since there are a raft of these sorts at my place.
Take Dane for instance. He makes this face when he’s being all serious and stoic.
Then there’s Jillian–she makes this face when she’s being demure and playful.
Lyndi swears that she never makes a pucker face ev-er. She is incorrect. She makes the face when she is really mad. Almost too mad to speak. You know, the spitting nails kind of mad. I can’t show you a picture of that because how would I ever take a picture of someone that angry–and live to blog about it?
I’m not an idiot, for Pete’s sake.
April makes the face as more of a smirk–as if to say, “Why am I constantly surrounded by stupid people?” So her’s is an attitude pucker. Again, I have no picture of that because, well, I have no desire to be spontaneously incinerated.
I believe it could happen.
And the bald kid? Well he may be the exception in our pucker-face gene pool…for now. I can’t say that I’ve actually seen it, but I believe it’s in there. He just hides all traces with the willpower and stamina of Jason Borne. Someday I’ll capture that kissy face on film, and prove it to the world.
Likely be his wedding day and involve a pretty girl–but I’ll get it.
It’s in the blood, I tell you.
