Last time I purchased eggs it happened to be Easter morning. Since I was too lazy to change into grocery store attire I slipped on a jacket and drove to a local dairy complete with a drive-thru. This is the closest thing we have to a drive through grocery store which by the way, I pay possibly double for the convenience of wearing my pajamas and slippers to purchase eggs. Bring it!
My husband was craving homemade, chocolate chip pancakes, and since we were one day post his birthday I figured I would volunteer for the trip. All of the other eggs were hard boiled and dyed.
When I arrived at the dairy a middle eastern man sauntered to my car door and asked, "What can I get you?" I felt stupid requesting a dozen eggs on Easter morning as if I was the only person in my city unprepared for egg dying? However, I knew full well that the eggs were for pancakes and I was prepared with an explanation.
"Today is Easter?" he asked.
"Yes" I replied, "But the eggs are really for pancakes."
"What do you do with the eggs?"
I assumed he meant in regards to Easter and not pancakes.
"Oh, we boil them until they are hard, and put them in the grass for the kids to find."
I think that this concept was harder for him to believe than our Messiah dying on a cross and resurrecting on the third day.
"But you paint them."
"Yes, we dye the eggs first, after they are boiled, and then we hide them in the grass for the children to find."
I believe he thought I was drunk, either that or on high doses of specially formulated, blue colored, Kool Aid.
He handed me my change, and I drove away, concerned with the impression I left with a middle-eastern man living in America. I'm just another one of those crazy Christians who, in addition to carrying out a wacky tradition of hiding hard-boiled eggs in the grass for small children to locate and collect, believes in a God who walked the Earth in human form, sacrificed His life for my sins, rose from the dead, and is coming again some day to carry me off to Heaven. Crazy Christian I am. A life eternal I posses, and truly, the eggs were for the pancakes.
My husband was craving homemade, chocolate chip pancakes, and since we were one day post his birthday I figured I would volunteer for the trip. All of the other eggs were hard boiled and dyed.
When I arrived at the dairy a middle eastern man sauntered to my car door and asked, "What can I get you?" I felt stupid requesting a dozen eggs on Easter morning as if I was the only person in my city unprepared for egg dying? However, I knew full well that the eggs were for pancakes and I was prepared with an explanation.
"Today is Easter?" he asked.
"Yes" I replied, "But the eggs are really for pancakes."
"What do you do with the eggs?"
I assumed he meant in regards to Easter and not pancakes.
"Oh, we boil them until they are hard, and put them in the grass for the kids to find."
I think that this concept was harder for him to believe than our Messiah dying on a cross and resurrecting on the third day.
"But you paint them."
"Yes, we dye the eggs first, after they are boiled, and then we hide them in the grass for the children to find."
I believe he thought I was drunk, either that or on high doses of specially formulated, blue colored, Kool Aid.
He handed me my change, and I drove away, concerned with the impression I left with a middle-eastern man living in America. I'm just another one of those crazy Christians who, in addition to carrying out a wacky tradition of hiding hard-boiled eggs in the grass for small children to locate and collect, believes in a God who walked the Earth in human form, sacrificed His life for my sins, rose from the dead, and is coming again some day to carry me off to Heaven. Crazy Christian I am. A life eternal I posses, and truly, the eggs were for the pancakes.
Comments
I'm the pancake dude in our house, most Saturday mornings. Pancakes and eggs, a' la dad. Shauna claims they're better than hers, probably so I'll let her sleep in (which is also part of our deal).
As for your encounter with the egg doubter, you may be a kook, but a really nice one. He'll get that.