The Egg with a side of Nyquil
Pheww. I feel like I just got unstuck from the vasoline that comes from a night of Nyquil. I took the recommended adult dosage, forgetting what happens to me when I do that. Medicinal coma of the most beautiful variety….but I become useless. If there’d been a fire here last night, I’d be dead. I did observe, as I was swallowing the stuff, that someone went to a lot of trouble to make it turquoise. Turquoise. The least natural color in the universe for a liquid to be. Perhaps it was brown after they spun their magic and they said, better make it turquoise? I don’t know. Brown is the only thing worse than what it is. But why am I complaining. It’s the miracle drug.
Now on to The Egg.
I feel betrayed like you can’t know. For years, I ate the egg. I babied the egg. I befriended the egg. I even picked my eggs from the carton by size and personality. If you don’t know that an egg has a personality, then you aren’t treating yours properly. I have eaten them scrambled, fried, sunny side up, cake side in, and deviled (only once, since deviled eggs are aptly named for being OF THE DEVIL). Then pregnancy happened and eggs were about all I wanted. I had an egg every.single.morning.without.a.single.skip for the entirety of 3 pregnancies. That’s about 32 weeks x 7 eggs per week x 3 pregnancies. Best I can multiply, that amounts to approximately 672 eggs. So I think I’ve got some experience in this area. And through all of that, the egg never talked back or betrayed me in any way. Until 6 months ago. And one day, out of nowhere, it turned on me. And it made me hurt. Bad. It doesn’t make me sick. No need to close a wing of the house or call the doctor or anything of the sort. There’s just a gradual searing pain in my stomach that starts about 30 minutes after eating the egg and ends naturally in about 2.5 hours or in 30+minutes with a little help from Pepto Bismol. Pepto has never turned on me. Bless it for that.
With my love of the egg so strong, so emotionally based, I didn’t want to give in that easily. So I tried just egg whites. That failed. And then I went to Texas, where my sister-in-law raises chickens. There are more chickens on that place than I have pairs of shoes. And occasionally, you’d run across a scene of nature’s harmony at its most unusual and finest, like in this shot.
Or even in this shot.
At any rate, she kept bringing us eggs. And I ate them. And that seemed to work for awhile. So I just chocked the whole thing up to the estrogen and Prozac that grocery chains inject the chickens with (please don’t quote me on this one, I didn’t check my data in a very scientific way…). When I returned home, I bought farm fresh eggs. Eventually, that stopped working. Then I tried farm fresh, pasteurized eggs (how in the world do you pasteurize an egg?). Then I tried farm fresh, cage-free, pasteurized eggs. Fail. Farm-fresh, cage-free, pasteurized, curfew-free chickens that read the bible and listen to Mozart in the evening? Fail.
So I posted my disdain for the egg and how it was making me suffer. And the Informinator, as is her custom, researched it. According to her sources, my problem has something to do with the histamines contained in the whites. AHA! I said. So I had tried the whites by themselves, but hadn’t tried the YOLKS by themselves. This will definitely work, I thought.
And so. This morning I tried an egg yolk on toast. And I waited.
And 30 minutes later, I wanted to do great bodily damage to one of Eggland’s Best’s chickens and then immediately go have my stomach pumped. Oh, The Egg. Must it end this way?
So, I’m doing the Pepto thing this morning and ending this whole chicken egg madness. Oh the madness of it.
According to the Informinator, they sell quail eggs in the ethnic section of the grocery store. So I’m going to put on my best non-American disguise and go buy some. Also, I’ve seen ostrich eggs by the side of the train tracks at Busch Gardens. Those ones are free. (I am aware of the grammatical issues. I’m upset. I’m just talking crazy.) Though I am most definitely daunted at the thought of eating anything that comes out of a quail, in the name of the love of the egg, the experiment will continue…