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A Love Letter to Deviled Eggs

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There was a farewell potluck at the church for the Pastor’s family. I asked my asbestos friend what I should bring. Being that I live 20 minutes away, it is a pain to bring something warm and attempt to keep it warm and/or try not to spill it. My asbestos friend suggested I make deviled eggs. And that made me happy.

Work Station: 1.Peel 2.Cut 3.Yolk 4.Whites

I find making deviled eggs relaxing. I know, you are probably thinking I am crazy. How can peeling one (or two) dozen eggs be relaxing? If you use brand new eggs, I have to admit, they are almost impossible to peel and can cause endless frustration. But if you use eggs that have been in your fridge a week or two, they peel better when boiled. And standing at my kitchen counter doing endless manual labor gives my mind a break.

Another relaxing thing about deviled eggs is that I don’t need to use a recipe to make them. Maybe people have a lot of dishes they can make by heart. Deviled eggs would be my only one. I don’t measure ingredients either. I just feel how much should go into each batch with my soul.

Because I enjoy making deviled eggs, I often make them for large groups, like showers or family gatherings. I have two deviled egg storage containers, which hold 35 eggs total. (Whoever invented a deviled egg container which holds an odd number of eggs should be shot. Probably a man.) When my mom made deviled eggs, she used to smash up the yolks with a fork. But then again, she was only making eggs for three people. I have found the most useful tool to use when making a large quantity of deviled eggs is a pastry blender. It is meant to be used to cut (blend) shortening into dry ingredients. I would have no idea what it was if I hadn’t been told in middle school Home Ec class. It works very well to efficiently smash lots of yolks in no time flat. (Ha, flat!)

I am not going to give you my recipe, because it is my secret recipe. And pretty unimpressive. But I will say that I do not believe the school of thought that says bring your eggs to a boil, then turn them off and let them sit for 20 minutes. I believe in BOILING my eggs for 20 minutes. I am a big advocate of food safety. I don’t want to take any chances with my eggs.

Also, if I want to fancy them up, I can put the filling in a Ziploc bag, cut the corner, and fill the egg whites as you would take a pastry bag full of frosting to a cake. But I don’t often do that, as I feel you leave valuable yolk stuff stuck behind in the Ziploc bag. I always top with paprika, although I don’t really believe it has much taste.

Finished Product (I recently melted the blue try, so I had to buy a new one. Ya! No more odd numbered eggs!

And, that is pretty much all I have to say about deviled eggs. I like to make them. They make other people happy. Hey, is it wrong to take “DEVIL”ed eggs to a church function?

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Finding Friends

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It is really hard to find friends. Maybe that is only my experience and no one else’s. I don’t know. Maybe I expect too much out of a friend. I am a Capricorn. I tend to expect perfection in everyone (including myself) and I am always disappointed. (Hmmm…I wonder why?)

My inspiration for this post is that two people who are really no more than acquaintances are moving away. But I was hoping, someday, my husband and I could consider them friends. It is actually the Pastor. Of my asbestos friend’s church. She often drags me to their events (see River Raisin Festival parade float for her church). We aren’t really members of that church. Although our names somehow ended up in the church directory (I think it has something to do with my asbestos friend being the church secretary). My asbestos friend and her family are very close friends with the Pastor and his family. But then again, they live on the same block. The only two houses on the block, to be more accurate.

OK. I’m babbling. But it seems like this always happens. Especially with a lot of my former co-workers. There are many I thought highly of and would have liked to hang out or go shopping with outside of work. But it never seems to happen. Then they move. Or get laid off. Or the whole company closes. And I will never get the chance to develop a real friendship with them. I will never see them again. Sure, Facebook will give the illusion that we have stayed in touch. But it is just an illusion.

In a few cases, I have actually gotten to hang out with co-workers more meaningfully. But as I had one of the longer commutes to work, distance makes things difficult.

As I said earlier, I expect too much out of my friends. I expect more than just a Christmas card once a year to consider someone a true friend. I expect a friend to be there for major life events. Maybe not all of them, but most of them, with a good excuse for the others. I don’t like to feel like I am the one making the effort all the time. I am a petty person who keeps mental notes in my head. I know life gets in the way. But if I made the effort to see you multiple times with no return, it wears on me. It darkens my friendship aura. And if I haven’t heard from you in five years (and I know you have my phone number and address), don’t expect one message announcing your marriage on Facebook to make me count you as a friend again. I don’t care if you were my maid of honor at my wedding. I hope the best for you out in the world, but we don’t know anything about each other’s lives.

So, Ya. I expect an occasional email or letter or phone call or lunch or visit or major life event participation. Call me a bitch. As I write this, I realize I am not always a very good friend according to my own standards. This goes back to what I said about being disappointed in everyone, including me.

Back to the Pastor. He and his wife always welcomed us to church functions, even though we were just tagging along with my asbestos friend. They welcomed us to their house for food and casual socialization, even though we were just tagging along with my asbestos friend. The Pastor came and visited us at the hospital on day four of our two day stay (of an eventual eleven day stay) at the hospital for my son’s first surgery. I coordinated Halloween costumes with the Pastor’s wife and my asbestos friend (we were girls from the 80’s. Because we are.) The Pastor stayed with us at the hospital for like five hours on the first day of my son’s two day stay (yes, it was only 2 days total) for his second surgery. He was a pleasant distraction. But there is no denying he has seen us at our worst. He saw me break down and cry as they wheeled my son into surgery, and he pretended not to notice. Although he was probably just grateful it wasn’t one of his kids. And I wouldn’t blame him. He is someone I thought if I was really freaking out about life I could go and talk to him. Now I guess I will never know.

So, two more people I will never get a chance to fully be friends with are leaving my life. It is so hard to find truly nice people who are funny and goofy. I need to find a way to hold on to them better.

I’m not stalking you. is NOW ON FACEBOOK! “Like” that I’m not stalking you and get an update when there is a new post to read. (It is sort of like YOU are stalking ME.)

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