Burnt Eggs and Lemonade

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"...so goes the age-old saying. (my Mom made the best lemonade I have ever had - from scratch, with just the right amount of sugar - I can still remember how it tasted. Mmmmm).

"There's nothing worse than burnt eggs"....so goes a favorite quote from my Mom. She probably never imagined that her daughter might someday burn hard boiled eggs. I think she was thinking more along the lines of scrambled or fried eggs. But I managed to burn hardboiled eggs last week.

Yes, that's what I said. I burned hardboiled eggs. It's taken me a week to hone in on the fact that I really did burn hardboiled eggs and just as long to own up to it.

It takes talent to burn hardboiled eggs. Not a lot of focus, however.

I seem to have a knack for letting things simmer too long. I draw things out long beyond their natural, healthy lifetime.

Diets come to mind. I have been on a diet for 17 years, and look where it's gotten me. Nowhere. It's not that hard, when you think about it. Eat less, move more. Turn on healthy foods, turn off unhealthy foods.

Relationships are another thought. I seem to be able to nurse a bad relationship along for much longer than is healthy, for all involved. I can hang in there, I can give second chances, I can recreate myself, I can comply, I can rebel, I can turn things on, I can settle. So, what is it that prevents me from turning things off? This could be a question for the eternities. Longsuffering? Patience? Bullheadedness? The inability to admit failure? A refusal to change? The fact that I am a redhead? Never giving up? Carelessness? Enduring to the end? A combination of all of the forementioned?

Oh. Wait.

And then there are eggs. Hardboiled eggs. It should be fairly simple. Water, pan, raw eggs. Turn on heat, turn off heat. I, however, seem to have forgotten that last critical step.

Somehow diets, relationships and hardboiled eggs will forever be linked in my mind. I can't seem to turn things off in a timely fashion. I linger. I procrastinate. I hope. I wait. I dream.

And then I burn the eggs.

Which brings me to lemonade. The universally liked drink. Refreshing. Full of vitamins. Almost youth-enducing. The drink that makes any day feel like summer and creates a slight breeze effect in your minds eye. I like mine sweet, but not too sweet.

I am so glad that I like lemonade. I can drink it forever. I don't ever have to turn it off. It doesn't burn. It doesn't hurt my feelings. It doesn't make me wonder who I really am. It's just lemonade.

I can drink lemonade to regroup. I can hope and wait and dream....and drink lemonade.

Mom, baseball and apple pie? Well, yeah, that's American red/white/blue jargon, but come on.

Mom, lemonade and a camp chair beneath the huge tree in our backyard on 18th Street - circa 1960. Now we're talkin. Simple, carefree, sunkissed blissful, innocent days...with a slight breeze.

Those are my memories. What a simple and good life that was. Of course, I was 6 and rather unencumbered by relationships, a need to diet or cooking issues. And I still had my Mom - and pancakes with apple sauce and sun-brewed iced tea, and lemonade.

I will probably burn more eggs in my lifetime and drag things out longer than I should (my blog posts are probably a good example of that), but more importantly, I will always make certain to take some time to stop in the middle of life's chaos to sip a tall glass of lemonade, and appreciate my family, my friends and my good decisions.

I love lemonade. I love life. I still love to sit under huge trees. And I will always wait for that slight breeze to renew my faith in humanity and in myself.

Thanks Mom.

Bob Hope "Thanks for the Memories"