Deviled Eggs - And The People Who Hate Them

Namely... ME!!! Now I must preface this story by stating that everything that happened (or will happen) was and is completely my fault. We are having an 'end of summer cook out' tonight with my young adults group from church, and I - Megan, of sound mind and body, and of my own volition, volunteered to help by bringing something to help w/ the spread. I emailed my mom yesterday to see if she had any ideas, and she suggested deviled eggs. Being the non-cook that I am, I thought this was an absolutely perfect idea. I learned the only stove time involved in making deviled eggs is boiling the water, and how tough can that be, right? (<----- famous last words of a fool). Even better, she said she knew just where to go to get a good recipe. Now, my mom has worked in the... poultry... business for over 20 years, so I have it on good authority to say that she knows people who know people who know a thing or two about... poultry. So she emails a friend of hers, and in about 10 minutes I have a deviled egg recipe (2, actually) sitting on my fax. I skim over both of them... ok, mustard...cool... sweet relish, alright... blah blah blah blah blah... ok, so this sounds pretty easy (silly, naive girl)! I figure I can wipe this puppy out in about 30 minutes. So my plans for yesterday evening included dinner w/ mom and sis at OTB, followed by chilling w/ James a Tim for a bit, then heading home. So I check my watch as I'm leaving T&J's, I think it was somewhere around 11-ish... no worries, I figure if I'd decided to go 'out' tonight, my evening would be just beginning. So I head home and start jamming out to whatever is playing on the radio, get all the way into my garage, garage door rolling down, when I realize I didn't stop at the grocery store to get the ingredients... DOH! I had a very short Megan sob, and for a split second considered saying 'screw it, I'll pick up cookies on my way over there tomorrow'. I jump back in the explorer, and head for Walmart.

**Sidestory** - I was discussing the whole 'being single, me no likey' thing w/ my mom, and she suggested grocery stores as a possible place to meet men... so, I tried to look at the bright side, and thought 'Hey, maybe I'll meet the man of my dreams tonight at... Wal...Mart... (sounds like the beginning of a bad country song)'. To anyone who wasn't already aware of the fact, eligible men worthy of dating do NOT peruse the Walmarts at midnight on Wednesday nights... or at least not last night at my Walmart anyway. I was surrounded almost exclusively by what appeared to be the 'Two H's', hookers and the homeless... good times, good times. So I get my ingredients and head back to the house.

Now I need to backtrack (sorry, but you're probably only skimming anyway, right??). When I was leaving OTB last night, my mom said she had brought an 'egg platter' for me to borrow. Never heard of one of these, but whatever. We head over to her car and she pulls out this beautiful crystal platter with the egg shapes intricately cut out of the glass. She then informs me, 'This was Mimi's platter, so please be careful with it'. Totally not her fault, but immediately I was flashed back to being ten years old when my sister and I had accidentally knocked this beautiful ceramic christmas tree off the mantle, breaking the base into a million pieces, and my mom getting so upset, because 'Mimi had made the tree herself'... and how horrible I felt about it for so long afterward... so no pressure w/ THE PLATTER, right? Once again, split second thought of just saying 'Thanks, but no thanks - I'll just use plastic tupperware...' Granted there would be no lovely egg shaped cut outs, but I also won't have to worry about the guilt I'll feel should I drop the dang thing. Then I reminded myself that I am **25 years old and capable of returning borrowed crystal in one piece**, and I take THE PLATTER... with both hands... wrapped tightly across my chest.... slooooowly.... to my vehicle.

Ok, back to my house... I've got the ingredients, and I'm ready to roll. It's a little past midnight at this point - yawn - and I'm about ready to hit the hay already. So I boil up the water, and dump the eggs in... and remember that I have no idea how long it takes to boil an egg. I figure 30 minutes is a good estimate, so I set the timer on my stove and curl up on the couch to watch some crap on tv... I think it was Carson Daly, that no talent hack who's maybe one level more interesting than a late night infomercial for butt cream... but Dermot Mulroney was the guest so that made it a li'l better. I was only half awake anyway. So, thirty mintues go by, and the half asleep part of me was quickly awakened by the sound of the timer going off and the sound of the water boiling over the edge of the pot. I quickly turn of the stove and go about my deviled egg making business. This is a much messier process than I would have ever imagined, but I finished the batch of the first recipe and neatly arrange the halves on THE PLATTER. As most of you know, I have very limited kitchen space, and the only place for me to put THE PLATTER was on the dinner table, which I do. So I'm working on batch #2 with the second recipe (named Firecracker deviled eggs, for their southern flair), and as I'm working on the mixing process, I look over to see that Bailey, my miniature beagle puppy, has managed to crawl up on the chair, and is in full pounce position... aimed straight at THE PLATTER. I always knew I had pretty good hand-eye coordination, but last night, I learned to what extent. Mind you, I am only half awake at this point anyway, but as I see Bailey extending from full pounce position, I litereally leapt across the kitchen and catch her, mid-air. Ok, that's really not quite accurate. More accurate would be to say that I leapt across the kitchen andknocked her out of the way, mid-air. She let out a little yelp when she hit the ground and ran off into the other room to sulk, and I felt bad for a second - but only long enough to remind myself that I would have probably been forced to kill her if she'd been the cause of THE PLATTER's demise - SO, she really did get the better end of the deal. I went ahead and locked both dogs in the office just to ensure no more little mishaps, and went about my deviled egg making.... blah blah blah, nothing interesting here. I finished the eggs, placed them all nicely on THE PLATTER, saran-wrapped 'em, and stuck 'em in the fridge. I'll pick them up this afternoon on the way to the party. Tossed all the crap in the sink, and headed for bed... 2:47am. Geez, I'm still in the first week of my new 'go to bed at a reasonable hour, aka before closing time, during the week' phase, and already I have failed!!!

So... thus far everything has gone relatively well with THE PLATTER and I. Sure, we've had our ups and downs in the past 12 hours of our relationship, but what couple doesn't? I have full confidence that the remainder of our time together will be bliss-full and break-free, until we have to say goodbye. Please wish THE PLATTER and I the best of luck in the day to come... we will certainly need it.