Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Ode to the Fried Egg Sandwich
The last day of the year calls for profound thoughts. It’s the custom on New Year’s Eve to be deep and reflective and then to wake up New Year’s Day a very clean slate, a blank slate waiting for the very first chalk line to be drawn. On New Year’s Day we anticipate the future like no other day of the year, but only in the morning. By nightfall, we’re back in it, whatever it is or was.
Not wanting to let this momentous time pass unmarked by something remarkable, I craft this blog post called, “Ode to the Fried Egg Sandwich.” Why, you ask. First, when you are truly hungry, hungry in a basic way, not in a let me try the latest Indian/Sudanese/
Bulgarian buffet that just opened downtown way, you can’t beat a fried egg sandwich. With cheese. Not celebrated, this homely sandwich, but powerful, rich. Core. I like food that will keep you alive and doesn’t aspire to fame.
Other than my sudden and overwhelming appreciation of the fried egg sandwich, I have other deep thoughts about 2013:
I realized that I love writing more than doing anything else.
I had my hair colored for the first time and God didn’t strike me dead.
The best time I had this year was sitting next to my older daughter in her hospital room.
It’s ridiculous how luscious swimming can be.
My friends seem to be getting very old.
My high-heeled boots are really out of fashion but I keep them for burial purposes.
My telepathic powers have grown as my hearing has worsened making me remarkably able to discern what people are thinking, unfortunately, not always the person who is talking to me.
I don’t like associating with people whose lives are too swell.
I own a beautiful car and it has no dents at the moment.
Being outside can cure almost anything.
It’s been a year — 2013. Some good friends suffered terribly this year and I could do almost nothing to help them. My family remains complicated — like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces kept in different drawers in different rooms. It’s ok. My work is the best there is and I’m grateful for it. I probably have the best husband on the planet.
Other than that, you know, it’s just another year in the books.
5 Comments on “Ode to the Fried Egg Sandwich”
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Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
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“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
Nice list, Jan. It has integrity. I haven’t met your husband, but I’ve been thinking that mine is the best on the planet. Hummm. Do we dual for the honor of our husband? The world of my age is shrinking – my husband reads the home-town obits first and keeps me posted. Ah, there is the post that I have been bouncing around my brain but I couldn’t get it started.
I’m curious about why you don’t like being around people whose lives are too swell. There is a post for you. 🙂 Happy week-end – stay warm and enjoy the game this afternoon. I just told my hubby your story and he laughed. We will be watching it with you – maybe fix a hot dog and beer.
I know what you mean about the fried egg sandwich– it’s right up there with ice cream as a comfort food for me–and we all need sustaining comfort food sometimes! Sorry we can’t make it for 3 K this year, but I do so appreciate that you continue to do it–thank you!
Happy new year and thanks for this list. I loved reading that God let you color your hair. Here’s to the fried egg sandwich and to you.
I’m vegan for two years, but, ah, the memory of the fried egg sandwich. With cheese. And Durkee’s. Good times, good times. And as an old competitive swimmer, it is luscious, isn’t it?
You sound like you’ve found your comfortable chair this year. Count me among your readers who look forward to more of your beautiful writing in 2014!
Durkee’s….maybe I should consider a modification of my traditional sandwich. I am so glad you are a reader and hope you come back often. Happy New Year to you!