What are you usually doing at 4:30 a.m. on a weekday? Me, I'm fast asleep dreaming about something bizzar, like chasing bacon that looks like snakes, or flapping my arms and flying through the sky. But not today. Today, my body was half awake, in the kitchen making breakfast for a crew of seminary students -- one of whom was Claire. While the rest of my neighborhood was still slumbering, I peeled potatoes, chopped onions, and had 4 frying pans on the stove full of hash browns.
At 6:00, I met my friend Rachel over at our church building where we finished the job. (I should mention that the seminary students meet there each morning before school.) Rachel brought ham, orange juice and a bunch of other stuff, and we began arranging a buffet line for breakfast burritos.
We had one job left -- cooking eggs. Lots and lots of them. I was prepared to take on the job alone because knew Rachel has an egg phobia. She avoids them like the plague. In all the years I've known her, I've never seen her eat one. But when I got out all the egg cartons, Rachel said "Here, I'll do that." That's when you know how much someone loves their children -- and their friend's children too. Look at her happily smiling away . . . .
She stared her enemy right in the face and cracked 54 eggs into a giant bowl. That's enough to make an egg lover gag. You've got to admire that.
I sympathize because I used to have an egg phobia too -- when I was young, my sister and my aunt used it as a means of torture. All they had to do was start talking about finding a chicken leg when cracking an egg open, and it was all over for me. In fact, I have to stop thinking about it right this minute, or I will have egg nightmares when I get back to my regular sleep routine.
Once we finished with the eggs (which I am not thinking about) an army of teenagers assembled in the kitchen and made themselves a burrito. It looked to me like "breakfast day" in seminary is the day when everyone attends -- that line was looooong. It didn't end until all the food was gone. Thank you Human Garbage Disposal Boys -- your repeat business saved me a trip to the parking lot dumpster.
It was fun hanging out with the teens in the early hours before school. Glad though, that my turn to cook only comes once a year. I don't think I could handle getting up at 4:30 every day. I might have to take a nap this afternoon -- and try not to dream about eggs.