A Pickled Egg Smile

You live but once; you might as well be amusing. - Coco Chanel

And so time whittled its way down until it was my last day of holiday break before heading back to work. I am not one who tends to worry about things a lot, but I have to admit that it was on my mind.

So I delighted, for just one more day, in the things I enjoy. I ate the last two pieces of fried chicken. I spent time with the cat and with my husband. I did little things, but nothing major, around the house. We watched James Bond movies on the TV. I took it easy.

And I did one of the silly things I've been meaning to do: I played with - and clearly, photographed - one of my mother's pickled eggs. I had many big plans for this egg. For one, I saw it in my mind as the centerpiece of a gorgeous pink and gold sunrise.

However, a pickled egg, as it turns out, is a surprisingly difficult artistic medium to work with. It leaves pink tracks everywhere you place it. Once you slice it, the egg yolk bits crumble off and make a mess. You end up cleaning up pink and yellow everywhere.

And so in the end, with tummy rumbling, my baser instincts won out. I abandoned my artistic pursuit, and I salted and peppered the egg, and I ate it. And so it was that art began in hunger and ended in tragedy, as it sometimes does.

Tragedy for the egg, you see; but not for me! Because now I am the one wearing a pickled egg smile!

The soundtrack: Bad English, with When I See You Smile.

More pickled eggs:
The pickled egg in its native habitat
As part of a winter's lunch
The last pickled egg