Eggs and the Devil

I know we're not supposed to compare ourselves to others. I know that each of us are in a different place in our spiritual walk.

I know this.

There's one woman at church who has my complete envy.

I'm not even sure, exactly, what her name is. I have my suspicions, but it's still kind of a mystery. Whoever she is, there's a skill she possesses that I simply cannot duplicate.

She makes absolutely perfect deviled eggs.

Everything about them is symmetry exemplified. They're perfectly shaped, perfectly filled, perfectly clean, and perfectly sprinkled with paprika. The yolk mixture is a lovely, bright yellow without a hint of grayishness that I've seen in my own eggs.

Most church covered dish suppers will have a plate of them and I always take more than one. Himself will only eat eggs scrambled (or hidden in foods, like cake) so it's a rare treat for me to get deviled eggs.

It's especially rare to eat deviled eggs so beautiful.

Today, since I had a plethora of eggs from my friend Mr. G, I decided to make both deviled eggs and egg salad. Himself has been traveling quite a bit and I wasn't worried about him in the house and having to watch the process.

I tried.

I really, really tried.

Deviled eggs are so labor intesive that it really hurts when they come out wrong. I tried to do everything I remembered from my Mom's deviled eggs and thought I was doing pretty well. I peeled and washed the eggs. I put the yolks in a bowl and rinsed the whites. I added mayo and dill pickle relish. I took a taste.

What I had was egg flavored mayo.

Way too much mayo.

I mean, YUCK.

I determined to keep going with the egg salad.

No celery.

I had a productive day regardless. After all, I am in a different place than Perfect Deviled Egg Woman.

That's just where I'm supposed to be right now.