Even a good cook...

Even a good cook can make mistakes. I don't make mistakes often, and I'm convinced that half of those mistakes are because my food has risen up in arms against me. Take this morning, for example. I lost half of my breakfast because of a rebel band of eggs.

The story began shortly after I woke up and was only a few sips into my first cup of coffee (oh yes, today it is only one of many cups to come). As I was making my beloved breakfast of eggs scrambled with green onions, tomato, and havarti cheese, I picked up the skillet to add the tomatoes and cheese, which were peacefully resting on the cutting board behind me. As I turned around, my finger touched the side of the pan, in a moment of startled pain, I jerked my hand away from the pan (this was the plan of the eggs and green onions--surprise was on their side!).

Do not fear, for they did not completely succeed!

It was not the hand holding the pan as they had wished. Such commonplace accidents to not happen to one such as I--I know the mind of my food. No, the wounded finger belonged to the hand holding the spoon, with half of the eggs carefully waiting within the belly of the spoon (this was Plan B of the Eggs). With that fateful jerk of a hand, the mutinous eggs made a quick escape from the pan onto the floor. Fortune smiled upon me as only half of my eggs were opposed to the tomatoes and cheese, and stayed safely in the pan. I'm sure the uprising would have liked to have taken down the entire pan, but they were not prepared for my iron grip on the skillet.

Rebel eggs! I'm still hungry because of you. Was it necessary to burn my finger because you were so opposed to mixed company in the skillet? I hardly think so.