Considering I’ve been in bed more hours than up the past few days, breakfast for dinner somehow seemed fitting.  Besides, we had everything we needed and I didn’t have to go outside for anything.  The cold from hell coupled with hellish temperatures outside have not done much for my normally charming disposition.  Cranky?!?  MOI?!?  Of course, not…  Much…

Potatoes roasted in the oven, thick-sliced Niman Ranch bacon, and local, cage-free, jumbo eggs… Toast sliced from yesterday’s homemade bread…

The appetite is still not quite back, and the taste buds are still on hiatus, but all things considered, it was pretty good.

I cooked us each three eggs, although Cybil ended up with most of them.

Three eggs are what I first flipped circa 1975 at The Old Post Office in Carnelian Bay, California.

I was collecting unemployment in San Francisco after being laid off from The Red Chimney restaurant when a friend of mine, Steve Johnson, called me up and asked me if I would be interested in a cook job up at Lake Tahoe.  I figured I had nothing to lose and a few days vacation at the lake would be fun, regardless…

So…  I flew up to the lake.  Steve picked me up and off we went.

The interview went great until Norma, the owner, said she wanted to see me flip some eggs.  They were famous for their three-egg breakfast orders…  Panic set in.  I had never – ever – flipped an egg before in my life.  Ever.

So with a brave face I went into the kitchen, heated the pan, added some butter, cracked three eggs, waited for just the right moment… and… a perfect flip!  I was shocked!  And Norma hired me right then and there!

The beginning of five years of living in the mountains started by flipping a couple of eggs.  Actually, it was the start of life as I know it, today!  Had I not flipped those eggs, I wouldn’t have gone to work for Hyatt, met Dusty, Susan, and Michael, moved to Boston in 1980, and met Dorrie who was just here to visit.  Who knows how different things would have been if I had stayed in that house on 28th Avenue with Kira and Robert – and their soon-to-be-born son.

I wonder if I would have quit cooking and gone back to school for social work?!?  It’s what I actually wanted to do.  I got pushed into hotel and restaurant by my old boss, Barry Beaupre, and he was signing my outrageous $1000.00/mo paycheck – a hellava lot more than social workers were getting paid at the time!  It was the path of least resistance, and Uncle Sam was only paying $260.00/mo in GI Benefits for us Vietnam Veterans to go to school full-time.

Me a Social Worker.  That really would have changed my life dramatically!  I never would have left San Francisco.  I think that’s the most difficult part to imagine.  Never leaving the city…

No…  the most difficult thing to imagine is life without Victor.  I am sooooo glad I flipped those eggs!

So there it is – my life in an egg shell.

This cold is driving me crazy!

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