Yolks on you…

I am a lover of eggs.  Eating eggs, that is.  I appreciate the variety of meals that can be made with eggs.  Restaurants caught onto this and started putting eggs on hamburgers.  Oh yes, the value of that golden, runny yolk is something to behold.  You would think that with all my culinary experiences in making appetizers and main meals that I would have a stellar advantage when making myself eggs for breakfast.  Sadly, the truth remains that the simple egg always seems to find a way to make me fowl up (haha, get it?) my breakfast plan.

My initial favourite type of egg for breakfast was the over easy egg.  As a child, my mother would make this ideal breakfast for me.  Mom’s recipe:

  1. Put a gallon of oil in the pan
  2. Crack egg shell with side of fork and drop egg into swimming pool of oil
  3. Use a spatula to splash boiling hot oil over the egg yolk
  4. Remove egg once there is a white film on yolks and yolks are still runny

What would happen if a yolk broke?  Well, that was the end of my day.  (I still believe this to be true.)  I used to gently nudge my fork tines against that whitened outer yolk and watch as the liquid began cascading around the rest of the fried egg white.  Every part of that egg needed to have yolk on it.  Of course, there were many other ways that she prepared this delicacy.

Sometimes a soft boiled egg.  What if she over-cooked it and the yolk slightly hardened?  Doomsday.  Hard boiled eggs...yummy!  Devilled eggs were the bonus to the hardboiled egg.  Eggs and mayonnaise!   My heart is screaming listening to its arteries harden.  Scrambled.  I didn’t like scrambled eggs at first.  They always seemed rubbery and had no flavour.  That was until Breakfast Man came into my life.  My beloved Wiseguy is Breakfast Man!  He can make any kind of egg I desire and it’s PERFECTLY PERFECT every time!  (Maybe fate brought us together for just for this reason.)  What kind of breakfast can Breakfast Man make?

Scrambled eggs.  My goodness they are fluffy and creamy and buttery and…are you salivating yet?  Yes, they are that good.  Eggs over easy?  You can shake the plate and watch those yolks jiggle with delight.  Omelette.   When Breakfast Man makes a cheese omelette you never know what kind of surprise you will find inside.  Spinach?  Mushrooms? Peppers? Chunks of leftover barbecued chicken?  Genius!  The fridge is Wiseguy’s muse; waiting for him to pluck something from obscurity and lead it into Breakfast Nirvana.  I know, I know, I sound like I have never eaten eggs before, but when you have had eggs prepared by Breakfast Man, you would drool as well.  Now, I told you these wonderfully, appetizing tales to share with you what happened yesterday when my breakfast desire was to make a nice soft boiled egg.

I put the egg in the pot of boiling water.  The egg cracked!  Darn it!  I pulled out a second egg, lost my grip and it fell on the counter.  Slight crack.  AAAARRRRGHHHHH!  Well, I turned off the pot of water and decided to make sunny side up eggs.  So, I took out a THIRD egg to add to my hairline fractured egg in hopes that one of them would turn out with a nice, runny yolk.  I added butter to my pan and the two eggs.  They fried for a bit and put the lid on the pan to steam them.   I put a nice thick slice of bread into the toaster.  I made myself a tea.  I LOST TRACK OF TIME AND OVERCOOKED THE EGGS!  The whites were rubbery.  The yolks were hard.  Prediction:  crappy day.  I was irked by my failure to procure the perfect yolk.  I severed one of the eggs and put into a container hoping I’d MacGyver it tomorrow morning via breakfast sandwich.  I decided to add the boiled egg to that mess.  I started to peel off the shell and discovered that the yolk was soft.  Perfectly cooked.  How did I miss that?

I am sure you have had days like that.  You might be a horoscope reader so you peruse your prediction for the day.  It says you will have challenges.  What happens?  You fulfill that destiny.  You have a crappy day because your horoscope said so.  My awful eggs?  I was predicting that I would screw them up and so I thought I had.  In my despair I had actually overlooked the good that had happened by focusing on all the bad that I had endured.

I think life is like my egg cooking journey.  (It’s a stretch but follow along.)  There are so many things we want perfect in our lives.  Perfection means we have control and can make sure everything is in its place.  We wake up wanting to be happy, but more often than not, we focus on all the things that are wrong and that need to be fixed in order to make our lives better.  If we actually stopped and focused on all the marvellous things in our lives, we would find the gold nugget (or egg yolk).  That little thing that would put a smile on our faces and make the things that aren’t perfect seem less awful.  Nugget by little nugget, we would find our lives becoming happier and our imperfect nuggets would not be as devastating.  There may be hard cooked times you are going through, but there is also a soft centre that will make you happy and comfortable and appreciative.  (Ok, ok enough with the eggsplanations.  haha!)

“May your life always be sunny side up!”  I think that’s what my egg was trying to tell me.  Then again, it might have been laughing hysterically and thinking:  “Yolks on you!”  Either way, it got me smiling.

 

 

 

 

Life is like a rainfall shower head

I have read and heard many stories about the benefits of a nice, hot bath.  I have seen pictures where there are frothy bubbles and scented candles surrounding a tub.  There are spongy loofahs, wooden book holders, calming flute music…yadda, yadda, yadda.  I have foregone all these relaxing dunks.  I am sure that if I did try just soaking for awhile my mind would wander off to the fairy forest and my brain would stop overplaying lists of things I could be doing were I not sitting around in a watering hole.  I am sure I can hear your gasps of dismay and your degrading comments of how I am missing out on the special relaxing quality of the spa.  Maybe I’m just not that relaxing kind of gal.  Well, I thought I wasn’t until Wiseguy installed a new shower head.

My “new-to-me” Moen shower head was actually a gift that I bought for Wiseguy five years ago.  He is a tall man and I thought the two part shower head would assist him in washing off more quickly and efficiently.  (Yup, always looking for ways to increase productivity haha).  Wiseguy decided to reno his bathroom and remove the ancient green tub and put in a stand up shower.  I discovered he NEVER used the rainfall part of the shower head.  Meh, his loss.  The silver lining here is that he got a different shower head for his shower and I got gifted with the Moen.  Lucky me!

I was looking forward to using it, but not super excited.  I believed I knew what it would feel like.  I was wrong.  So wrong.  I used it for the first time today and I seriously almost fell down in the tub as this mini rainfall sprinkled upon my body.  I started with the small, main shower head.  Usual pressure.  Nothing crazy.  Then I turned on the rainfall shower head.  I cannot explain what it feels like to have little water droplets cascade from the top of my shoulders down to my thighs.  I will give it a try though.

Rain fall shower heads disperse the water so that it feels like little massage fairies walking around your body.  Little tap, tap, taps.  These hot droplets hit various pressure points all at the same time.  Your mind can’t function because you are enthralled with little wet fingers that keep gently striking you.  How can you think about anything while you are becoming jelly under these rain forest-like conditions?  You don’t realize how sensitive your skin is until you stand under a rainfall shower head.  I would recommend it to anyone!

For you bath people, I am sure that your method works well for you.  A nice, hot, steamy bath where you can feel your muscles unknotting as you soak.  Please continue to enjoy your method of decompressing.  I am happy to have found this glorious hot rain that won’t let me think about anything because I am too focused on where each water droplet is tapping on my body.  My mind gets erased.  My stress is removed.  The hardest part is realizing that I will eventually have to turn off this glorious stream and continue with my day.

This concludes my enjoyment sharing for today.  May you find and appreciate the little joys you have in your life.  There are many and we oftentimes miss them because our “want list” always seems longer and more desired than the “already have list”.

Quote for the day:  Life is like a rainfall shower head.  Feels good! (author: Maryann Jurcich)

Lucy… I’m Home! Lequitia? Looowee?

I wrote about one dog love (my puppy / doggy Waldo) and today I will tell you the story of Lucy.  If you read my previous blog, you would’ve learned about my fear of dogs and how I came to own one myself.  This is the story of how a little black and white shi-poo came to be part of our family.

Waldo (a.k.a. “Fabio” the dog who believes he is the be all and end all) was our only fuzzy friend.  He came to us from a pet store that Princess worked at.  Hubby came home one day with a scared, little black Shi-poo.  She was being picked on by the pure bred shitzus so Princess asked if he could save her.  He did.  Roxanne became Waldo’s little sister.

Roxanne and Waldo were meant to be together.  Waldo was only one month older than his new sister.  When they napped, Roxanne would put her head on top of Waldo’s neck.  They ran around excitedly. Roxanne running out front and Waldo running after her.  We had a great little dog team, but it was short lived.  One day we had the backyard gate open and the chase continued from the backyard, spilling over into the front yard.  Speedy Roxanne ran happily out into the street and was hit by a passing pickup truck.  She died instantly.  Wiseguy and I were traumatized .  Waldo was devastated.  Waldo would sit by the window every day to try and find his playmate.  I thought we should find him someone new to play with.

Imagine my surprise when Wiseguy told me that he was coming home with a new puppy.  She was seven weeks old.  When I came home I couldn’t believe how tiny she was!  (Wiseguy named her Lucy because of the line from the “I Love Lucy” show where Desi would come home and holler “Luuuucy I’m home!”)  My wee little hairball had a head of black hair with white hairs just above the eyes;  they looked like an old man’s grey eyebrows.   Her black head sat on a completely white body.  So tiny and spunky and yippy and beyond adorable.  She was a shi-poo with spunk!  She was scampering around everywhere!  We found Waldo a new playmate!  Except for one thing:  Waldo hated her.

Waldo kept walking away from her.  He would climb on a step or jump on the couch so she couldn’t reach him.  Too much pawing and nipping and especially the scampering!  Poor Waldo.  We wanted to find him a mate and we found him an annoyance.  I guess that one year difference was just too much.  Oh well, Lucy was with us to stay.

Our new addition became ill after 3 months.  Lucy had strangles.  What?  Worse case scenario the illness could have strangled her to death.  For three months she had to take meds to kill her autoimmune system.  No regular dog walks because she could get an even deadlier infection.  Sadly her world exposure was quite hampered.  As such she barks at the following:  all people walking or running, people on bicycles or skateboards,  buses driving by, birds, leaves, air.  You get the idea.  For three months of her life all she had was Waldo as her dog example.  She even pees like Waldo; one hind leg up.   She never got to sniff or see or play with any other dogs.  She survived and became a unique (?) dog.

For some reason my little 10 lb. pup likes to play fetch.  A shi-poo that plays fetch?  Weird.  She likes to lick her paws like a cat.  When Waldo is looking out the window and barks at something outside, she will stand up on her hind legs and bark as well.  Why is she barking?  Because Waldo is.  If I leave them at doggie daycare, Waldo will hang out near her to protect her because she doesn’t really know how to be with dogs (we think she believes she is a cat).  After his big brother duty is done, he will saunter off.  Lucy will whine and be miserable if her big brother isn’t around.  Sounds like a regular human relationship between brother and sister right?

Although her name is Lucy, she will come when I call any name that starts off with the “loo” sound.  Lucy, Lulu, Lequitia (that was a favourite for a few months), Lucifer (haha), and most recently my niece’s little one who will be two in a couple of months called her “Loooweee”.  Lucy came.

So now you know the story of my two favourite cuddle-puppies.  Waldo, our pretty boy  who is very vocal when he wants something.  Lucy, the quiet cat-like dog who loves to cuddle and lick.  Lick everything and anything.  If she needs to go out she will sit and stare at you.   That’s your first clue.  If you don’t get it from that silent clue, she will jump onto your lap and start licking your face off.  No barking.  It’s her trademark “I need to poo” move.  Throw a ball and she will fetch to the point of retching.  Crazy dog.

If I had to do a dating profile for Lucy it would read as follows:  LOVE baths (I jump into the tub myself).  I HATE, HATE, HATE having my hair brushed.  Love walks so I can bark at everything and everyone.  Love to lick my paws.  Love to lick your face.  Love to be cuddled and coddled.  I will head butt you if you hold onto the ball and won’t throw it for me to fetch.  I am 7 years old and I run around like a puppy.  You may find me weird at first, but I have my own special qualities.  Love Lucy (aka Lequitia / Lucifer / Lulu / Loooweee)

P.S.  I love Waldo

Fuzzy Wuzzy…was NOT a bear

With my new career change and my new life, it’s nice to have something that remains constant.  Something that is familiar.  Something that I love.  Something that I can come home to and know it will be there for me.  Always happy to see me.  Always there to greet me.  Yes, you would think that I am speaking about my beloved “Wiseguy” husband.  It could be my handsome man, but sometimes he works nights and he is not there for me upon my return.  When he is not home, I have two fuzzy wuzzies that are always super happy to see me when I get home.  I have two fluffy puppies (until they get haircuts), but no matter how challenging a day I have had, their wet noses and wagging tails make me melt and forget about any trials and tribulations.  This is the story of how the first fuzzy wuzzy came into my life.

I hated dogs.  Period.  Yes, my early years, my teen years, my early adult years, I hated dogs.  Actually, I didn’t hate them, but they terrified me!  I always thought they were going to jump on me and wrestle me to the ground and eat my face off.  How did I get this insane conception?  No idea.  For years I just new that all I had to yell was, “Go home!” and they should go scurrying off.  Did it always work?  In most cases.  So, how did an anti-dog person suddenly become the owner of, not one, but two dogs?

Whilst Wiseguy was working nights, I was alone and wanted company.  I told him I wanted a dog.  He laughed. He chuckled.  He chortled (oh yes he did!).  With the comment of:  “You hate dogs.”  Yes, he was right.  The reason I began thinking I wanted an animal was something a friend said. He had just become the new owner of a German Shepherd.  I told him I could never visit him because I was terrified of dogs.  He said quite simply, “Oh, I don’t like other people’s dogs but I love mine.”  That got me thinking.  Yeah.  If I trained my dog then I would love it.  Wiseguy still thought I was crazy.  Even worse, I told him I would call my dog Barney.  Well, he poo-pooed me every night.  I kept going to bed at night wishing that I could have my Teddy-bear dog.

I wished for a tan coloured little pooch with little dark eyes.  I knew it should be a him and not a her.  I just felt it was right.  (I have these wonky extra-terrestrial powers I think).  So, imagine my surprise when after about 4 weeks my stepdaughter called, super-excited with this news:  “You aren’t going to believe this!  I got an interview at a pet store.”  Well, now you see how my hokey-pokey magic wish powers just seemed to come to fruition.  What happened next?

After a week at the new job, I decided to visit her and see how she was liking her new job.  She was always incredible with animals and this was a perfect fit for her.  I told Wiseguy that I was going to visit her and asked if he wanted to come along.  Sure.  So, off we went.  We arrived and Princess was super happy with her job.  FANTASTIC!  Suddenly, my eyes locked on this little furball.  He just sat there.  The other pups scampered around him and he just sat there.  Princesses’ sister (who also worked there) asked me if I wanted to hold him.  Hold?  Him?  I have held over 100 children, but 4-legged creatures…never!  She brought him to me and put him in my arms.  He sat there.  He didn’t move.  He didn’t bark.  The anti-dog.  I was amazed at this 10-week old teddy bear.  They had a little room that you could sit in to get to know one another.  I placed my little furball on the floor and he WENT NUTS!   He was scurrying and jumping and yipping and I didn’t know what to do!  Wiseguy was laughing at me (justifiably).  He came in and rescued me.  How?  He picked up the foot long fuzzy and placed in my arms where he promptly relaxed and just let me carry him around.  I fell in love with this little cutie.  What happened next?

Barney came home with us except he was renamed Waldo.   Like “Where’s Waldo?”  Wiseguy is great at naming people (children) and animals. Fuzzy wuzzy…has kept me sane.  At first I used to call Wiseguy and cry.  I had never had a pet before and suddenly I had this 6 lb furball biting me and scratching and whimpering and barking.  It was a learning experience with a puppy, but I did survive.  Waldo (now 8 years old and I like to call him Fabio).  He knows he is beautiful.  When his hair gets long (part shitzu-part poodle) he needs a haircut(e).  (lol!  My own funny.)  Biblically he is like Samson (and Delilah if you need to google).  When his hair is short (that is his “Baldo” phase) he is “sprite-like” as the 10 week old that I met. No matter what, Waldo aka Baldo aka Fabio is special.  Why?

Where’s Waldo?  As a dating profile I think he would say:  Hate baths, but love long brushes.  Hate squirrels, airplanes, ambulances.  Love robust trees. love waldo XOXO

P.S. I am beautiful and fuzzy but I am not a bear.  I am sure you bears are jealous! Love Waldo.  aka Waldorfson

To Start Anew…

Fall is the season that most poets considered the middle age of life.  Spring is all about renewal. Summer represents the high-falootin’ days of youth.  Winter; cold and miserable…leading to death’s door.  So said the poets of yesteryear.  Well, I am here to claim that any season, of any year of your life, could become your season to begin anew.  I myself decided that I no longer wanted to live dreading each day of my existence.  This is my short tale of how I found the courage to start afresh and find my happier life.  I hope you will find some inspiration from this and get the gumption to laugh at fear and believe in yourself.

Life begins.  You are born.  You grow.  You thrive.  Every person has had different experiences in their youth.  Many have whimsical tales of the atrocities of their youth which become hilarious horror stories to share.  In most cases, they are never as bad as what many others experienced.  We might joke about clothes passed on from elder siblings (yes, I wore my older brother’s clothing).  We tell tales of psychotic parents and the types of punishment they doled out.  Whatever the torture, we survived.  It molded us into the adults we became.  As we moved from childhood to teenage-dom there were undeniably, more challenges.

If you ask any adult now, most will say they were never as bad as the teenagers are now.  Hmmmm.  If you were to actually start thinking about (shall we call them adventures) of your early double digit years, you might find that you were also a thorn in your parents’ side.  High school and the need to belong, finding your own identity, learning, growing.  To make it even more fun, the physical changes from youth to pre-adulthood.  Ugh…I would never want to relieve those days again.  We move along to early adulthood.  Welcome to your twenties!

You are an adult.  You are dreaming big on what you want to do in life.  Oftentimes finding a job meant actually greatly lowering your expectations.  Parents still viewed you as a child.  You had big ideas on your future life.  If you were brave, you followed your dream no matter what anyone said.  If you were trained, like most of the sheep in our society, you did what you were told to do and let life slowly start crushing your rose-coloured world.  It happened to numerous people (myself included) and in many cases it was because older, “wiser” people wanted what was best for you.  They didn’t want you reaching for the stars or dreaming big because they didn’t want you to get hurt.  It was done out of love, but in the end you were miserable.  Misery bred more misery.

You might have married someone thinking:  “This will make things better!”  You jumped from job to job hoping:  “This will be the one!”  This is where many found themselves saying that glorious phrase: “Life got in the way.”  Such a sad little phrase, but many truly believed this.  I myself was one of those for a very long time and then I literally (yes literally) decided that I could take control of my life.

Practice.  Yes, it took practice and EXTREME patience.  I disliked many things going on in my life and I felt trapped.  I had not control.  I pitied myself.  Then I made the conscious effort to STOP the internal, infernal negative voices.  From there, I started focusing on what I call the “silver linings” of life.  No matter how negative things seemed to be in my life, I would find the positive.

EXAMPLE:

NEGATIVE:  Stuck in traffic  /  POSITIVE:  I was listening to an audio book so I would actually be able to hear more.

NEGATIVE:  I got rear-ended / POSITIVE:  I was hit by an honest person who paid for the repairs.

NEGATIVE:  I did what my boss told me to do and was reprimanded later for not following policy /  POSITIVE:  I learned procedure and learned who I could trust and not trust.

These may sound like silly examples, but the fact is that our society is based on sarcasm.  Comedians make fun of people.  Embarrassing people and posting it on Facebook, or YouTube, so that it can go viral, is a new goal.   Gossip at work about who is the most stupid or the ugliest is a favourite past-time.  Even the daily news focuses on the negative.  You can break free!  How?

One day, I decided that, although in the Fall of my life, I could start anew.  I could find a place that would make me happy.  Best of all, I whole-heartedly believed it.  With my whole body and soul I trusted it would happen.  Did it work?  You betcha!!

It is the place where I work now.  Timeline:  from online resume to interview to second interview to job acceptance was one week.  My new job has people who are supportive and friendly.  Yes, the job is hectic and fast-paced, but I feel alive and grateful.

Moral of the story:

  •  Don’t be afraid to start anew.  So many famous people started new careers in their 50s, 60s, 70s, and beyond (helloooo KFC…Colonel Sanders)
  • Believe in yourself.  You have lived your life and learned many things.
  • Let go!  Sometimes not fretting is all it takes to make everything better.