Scrambled

The weekend edition.

• Those of you with children, do you ever think about the differences between how you grew up and how they are growing up?
• This morning, and it’s Sunday btw, I’m thinking about it because of scrambled eggs.
• I learned to make them when I was about six. 
• The Teenager, this summer.
• I’d make them for myself and my little sister.
• Scrambled cheesy eggs.
• I only feel like I’ve perfected them now. 
• (Though if I went out on the internet and looked, I’m sure there are multiple instructional videos and recipes explaining how I’m doing it wrong.)
• Mine go something like this:
• However many eggs, depending on the number of people, in one or our Pyrex measuring cups.
• I add sour cream right then, not cheese, but don’t ask me the amount.
• On all the things I cook all the time, I don’t do a lot of measuring.
• I’ll then take a fork or our small eggbert beater to the eggs.
• Pan on the stove is set to medium, and I let it heat up four or five minutes, then throw in a pad of butter. 
• Soon as the butter starts to bubble and brown, I’ll dump in the beaten eggs. 
• I let them just sorta take over the pan for a minute or two.
• Add some pepper.
• And a tiny shake of seasoning salt.
• Then I scramble them around until there’s no more liquid egg, and take the pan off the burner. 
• They are usually the last thing I cook if we’re doing breakfast meats and/or some sort of potato (hashbrowns or fried like my great grandmother used to do them). 
• There’s always the high probability of biscuits, though I still have not committed to doing those homemade.
• Sigh.
• We switched to those bags of frozen Pillsbury buttermilk ones.
• Waaaay better than the stuff out of the cans. 
• It’s like an entirely different company made them.
• I’m writing about breakfast because I just finished making a scrambled egg-and-cheese English muffin, and it was magical.
• Eggs from above, throw a slice of cheddar on top while they’re still in the pan.
• Toast the muffin.
• Viola. Breakfast magic.
• Which brings me to part two of this.
• Big coffee cups are the worst.
• The worst because you can’t drink all the coffee before it goes cold side.
• I did not sign up for cold brew, bros.
• And microwaving coffee does not improve its taste.
• Smaller cups, multiple trips.
• I told you up top, typing this on a Sunday.
• I may just post it today, write another tomorrow.
• I could be writing this in my Journal.
• But … it’s not really journal material, though you can make the case all of these Lists are journal material.
• My “big” coffee cup is green, brown, and possibly handmade, wrapped in the language of Mordor, which we will not speak here today. 
• One cup to ruin it all.
• I’m not getting rid of the cup, mind you.
• It is awesome.
• I just have to drink faster, more recklessly.
• Also, it is perfect for hot chocolate.
• Gonna spend the rest of the day watching Fellowship and cleaning house, I think.
• Maybe grill some chicken on the blackstone tonight and have an Old Fashioned.
• A whole day ringed around food.
• Sigh.
• I need to go shop for a few things, probably at the Mall, which is also the worst. 
• Funny, that, right?
• When I was a kid growing up in Sand Springs, trips to Woodland Hills Mall required begging.
• Once there, it was all KB Toys, the arcade, and the music store (which I can’t remember the name of at the moment). 
• (I’d phone a friend, but … if you interrupt the flow, it takes 20 minutes to mentally get back to where you were.)
• It’s going to bug me.
• But I’m not going to cheat and use the internet to look it up.
• I did not buy my first Metallica t-shirt there, though I did buy my first Metallica tape.
• The t-shirt came from Starship (in its previous location).
• So.
• We’ve gone from scrambled eggs to music stores.
• Probably ought to stop.
• The Weekend Edition.