I don’t know what got into me, maybe the stress of this wedding thing and Nick’s gall bladder. Who knows.
When my youngest was making eggs she accidentally got a piece of shell in the pan and asked for my help. I got it out carefully with a spoon and said
I’m an eggspert.
Lame, lame, lame. And that’s what her face told me she thought too. Then I said
I made a yolk.
And still it wouldn’t stop. It was horrifying.
I made two! It’s a double yolk.
And that makes three. And I am no longer allowed to speak outloud. So I came to blog it instead.