This is a hardboiled egg disaster. I wish I would have had some of my googly eyes handy.
We’re having a family visit this weekend.
I started to make cookies on Thursday and I added in an egg and it looked just a teeny bit off and smelled just a teeny bit off. Not bad but not right. I went back and forth a few times but elders were going to be eating these cookies, there was no room for error so I threw the dough away.
It always hurts to throw out something like that.
And. I remembered my lesson from 7th grade Home Ec — break the eggs into a little bowl before you add to the mix in case you get egg shells in there or the egg is not good. OOPS! You were right, Mrs. Wheeler.
I did a do over on Friday.
My friends in Chicago are donut people. This is not the only collection of donuts from the visit.
My grocery store trip was also eventful.
As I was going in I saw a guy with at least a pallet of bottled water. He saw me noticing and ran over to ask if I needed concrete work.
Inside, there was a person who seemed to be having a mental health crisis. I finally went to ask a manager if there was something we could do and I was informed that they are a person with a disability, they are a regular customer, and they are fine. Which is great, I am happy to be educated but the person explaining this to me was a total witch about it.
How am I supposed to know?
Later I watched a person fill their pockets with drinks and snacks and walk out of the store.
Then I got into an argument with my regular checker about whether my tribal ID was okay to check ID. They require ID on all alcohol purchases now. Fine – I understand why they have to do that, but also a tribal ID is a legal form of identification. The checker told me they’ve never even heard of a tribal ID. I wanted to punch them in the face and tell them to learn something about the first people where they live.
Space is freaking awesome.
Happy Fourth of July and Dad’s 92nd birthday! Hopefully I will insert more photos later.