Waffle Eggs: A Breakfast By Any Other Name...

One of my favorite breakfast dishes is an egg fried in a hole in a slice of bread. The combination of eggs and toast might not be health food, but it's sure comforting. Growing up, we called it "Eggs in Bread", but I think the more common name is "Egg-in-a-Hole". It must be a pretty popular dish, because it goes by several other names, too:

Egg-in-a-Basket
Chicken-in-a-Basket
Frog-in-a-Hole
Toad-in-a-Hole
Egg Basket
Bird’s Nest Egg
Toad Hole
Egg Hole
Pop Eyes
Egg Toast
Private Eyes

I'd like to add another name to that list. I'm not what you'd call a creative cook. I usually follow a recipe by the letter, but here's my take on "Egg-in-a-Hole": "Waffle-Eggs!" (I also considered "Egg-in-an Eggo".)

Instead of bread, I use frozen waffles. Any brand will work, but here I'm working with the frozen waffles that are sold in bulk at Costco. 

First I drop two waffles in the toaster for one round on the lowest setting. I think it's easier to cut a hole in a waffle that's been warmed a bit. Then I spread butter (or margarine) on each side before making the hole. If you don't have a cookie cutter handy, then a small juice glass works fine.

Once the pan reaches medium heat - I turn the control knob to 6 - slide in the waffles and the "rounds" you cut out. I put a drop of butter in each hole, and then I crack an egg into the hole. Salt and pepper each egg as desired. (Hey, that kinda looks like WALL-E.)

I use the little waffle rounds to tell me when I can flip the Waffle-Eggs. The rounds are easy to flip, and when they're brown, so are their big brothers.

You can use the same trick with this side. For this dish I'm a fan of using yoke like syrup, so I like the yolk to be a bit runny. You can cook them to any degree you want. Just tap the top cooked side of the egg with your spatula to see how soft the yolk is underneath.

Time to plate it.

To quote Daphne, "Yum!"

If you want to see another idea I had for frozen waffles, you can click here.

And The Winner Is...

When I blogged about dress shopping with Charlotte, I didn't post a picture of the dress Char picked for Easter Sunday. I was waiting for the big day.

You can see she's pretty happy with her choice. Or she's just pumped about the candy.

Happy Easter!

The Hunt is On!

Can't Force It

I found this license plate frame at a local thrift store, and it's currently on my car. (Apparently, if you show all the letters and numbers on your license plate, then bad people will find you and steal your car...)

If you know me pretty well, you'd know how much I despise golfing. This frame might as well read, "I'd Rather Be Having An Enema".

My dad loved golfing, and he assumed if he made me golf with him I would also grow to love it. For ten years the Monson Sunday scenario was the same. Our family would walk home from church, and I would hide in the basement bathroom, praying Dad would just leave and go golfing alone.

 I was never that lucky.

After 15 minutes of wishful thinking, I would hear Dad holler down the steps, "C'mon, Bud! Let's go!"
I'd weakly reply, "Go where?" [Pathetic, really.]
"Golfing! C'mon."
"But I hate golfing!"
"C'mon! Let's go!"
"Dad..."
"C'mon! Let's go!"

I'd slowly climb the stairs, sit on the top step, and swear under my breath while I put on my shoes. On the drive to the golf course I'd sit in silence, wondering how badly it would hurt if I jumped out of the car .

Complaining about golfing makes me feel like a spoiled child. Golfing is an expensive hobby, and spending two hours out in the sun can be relaxing and fun. But let me tell you, golfing with the mentally ill is never fun. By the time I was in my 20s Dad was bipolar and he had no mental sensor. Imagine being yelled at in front of a group of other golfers to hit the same golf shot 12 times in a row. Finally I had enough of his verbal abuse, and at the end of our last round together I threw my golf bag at his car and walked home. I was done.

But now that Dad is gone, does it make me sad that I can never golf with him again?

Heck, no. I understand that he was sick, and he couldn't help himself, but I hated golfing with him when he was mostly normal. It's like asking me if I miss getting a root canal.

So, why the license plate frame? The irony makes me laugh. It's like my car's wearing an ironic t-shirt or we're sharing an inside joke.  Soon the frame will stop making me chuckle, and I'll take it off the car. But I'm going to hang it in my garage where I can see it. It'll be a reminder that enjoyment can't be forced upon a person, and repetition only breeds contempt. I can't make Charlotte enjoy the things that I enjoy. I can expect her to try, but if she really doesn't enjoy it, I better pull back.

As a dad my job isn't to make her into a golfer, or a runner, or any kind of athlete. My job is to encourage her to do her best at whatever she wants to do. But while she's doing "whatever", I have to make sure she plays fair, doesn't obsess when she loses, and when she wins she does it with grace.

My job is to help her to become a person who is kind to others and positively contributes to society. In the end, I think that's all a parent can hope for...

...but for now, "Hey Char! Wanna go to Goodwill with me?"

Easter's Right Around The Corner

And Charlotte, the Tiara Princess Bunny, is decorating her Easter cookies!

You can't have too many sprinkles. It's just not possible.

The Spirit of Giving

I've got a boatload of hobbies and interests, but one of my favorite things to do is to find gifts for friends and family. No matter the size of the gift, I believe the underlying message that a gift sends is, "You are important to me, and I was thinking of you." Maybe that's why I buy gifts? I'm not good at hiding my emotions.

Already there's a small stash of Christmas gifts hidden in our house.

That might seem extreme, but you don't know how much stress that relieves when the holiday draws near. Plus, why wait? If you see a gift that you know someone will enjoy, then snatch it now. You and I both know you'll forget what that perfect gift idea was when the pressure's on in December.

Sometimes I can't wait, though. A few of years ago I carried a package into the house, and as I was sneaking it upstairs Daphne caught me and asked, "Is that for me?" She was teasing me because at the time I had been buying quite a few books on eBay. I answered, "As a matter of fact, it is for you."

Daph didn't believe me, so I added, "Do you want your Valentine's Day gift early? Or do you want to wait?" Daphne called what she thought was my bluff, and she opened the thin cardboard box to find this DVD of Oklahoma! waiting for her inside.

Daphne was suspicious of Hugh Jackman in a musical (think of Carrie Underwood's train wreck in The Sound of Music), but this is actually very good. Even Charlotte, who was only five months old and sick, liked Hugh's singing and dancing. So, the DVD was a good gift, but I jumped the gun and had to find something else to give her on February 14. For me, there are much worse things - like trying on jeans at the store. I hate shopping for jeans. Hate it.

But here's the hard part when you've always got your gift radar turning. It hurts when you find great gifts for people who have passed away. For instance, this ad was in my email this morning.

My mother-in-law would have really liked "The Classic Sound of Hollywood", but I can't give it to her now. Although that's sad, I can still imagine her reaction. I can remember how she would dramatically suck in a breath, pull her hands to her face, and laugh behind her fingers. It was fun to watch.

The same goes for my dad. Whenever he was really surprised with a gift he would turn it over in his hands and murmur, "Jeeese! I can't belieeeve you found this. Bud, that is a collector!" And then, if he were visiting my house, he would hide the present in the trunk of his car, as if he was scared he would lose it.

So maybe that's all I have to do when I see a perfect gift for Dad or Deb. I just have to remember what their reaction would be, and they'd know that they are still important to me, and that I was thinking of them.

When I die I want to be like the character Doc Graham in Field of Dreams. I want people to find a bunch of gifts in my closet that I just didn't get around to giving to them.

That would be a fun legacy to leave behind.

A Dog Named Phew

My daughter's bedtime is between 8:00 and 8:30 pm, and before the lights are turned off Daphne typically tucks Char in bed and reads her a few books.

A few nights ago it was past 8:00, and I could hear peals of laugher coming from Char's room. I walked upstairs to find Char and her mom reading on Char's bed, as usual, but Char was rolling on the covers and laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

This is the book they had just finished reading.

Daphne found Walter the Farting Dog at the library. I swear it wasn't me. And before she read it to Char she simply told her, "This is a story about a dog named Walter." As soon as they turned the page and got to Walter's first fart, it was all over. Charlotte was bustin' a gut.

I can't say that I blame her. Char asked to read the book "Again!" And I volunteered. But I couldn't get through this paragraph. I was laughing so hard I was crying.

I'm sure we were punchy, but seriously, everyone likes fart jokes, even if they wouldn't ever admit it. There's a reason this book reached the top of the The New York Times children's best seller list, spawned four sequels, and was in the office of White House Chief of Staff Josh Bolten who reportedly kept it as a "conversation starter". For a while the Jonas Brothers wanted to make a Walter the Farting Dog movie. (wikipedia).

We had so much fun with that book I had to check the library's web page for one of the sequels. Did you know that flatulence has it's own category in the system's search engine?

See? Everyone likes fart jokes. The Des Moines Public Library has twelve different books about them. I better head over there. 

Easter Dress Shopping

I told some people that we were going to shop for Easter dresses this weekend, and I was asked what would I be doing, then. I told them I was shopping for Easter dresses, too. 

I'm not missing this.

What Can You Do With a Broken Camera?

Last year I noticed these mini garden rock lights for sale at the Dollar Tree.

The lights are solar powered, and when you cover the solar panel the light comes on.

I didn't have any real use for one, so I bought three. And for the last six months they have been sitting on a shelf in our basement.

Last week I bought this used camera for a couple of bucks. We've got a few rolls of 135 mm film in our junk drawer, and I thought it would be fun for Charlotte and I to shoot some pictures together. Maybe she could learn a bit about photography without putting Mom's good digital camera in jeopardy.

Unfortunately, the Vivitar Onki 89 doesn't work. The motor won't turn the sprockets. I threw the camera in the garbage in disgust, and then five minutes later I took it back out... like I always do.

But why? What can you do with a broken camera?

Here's my thought process in these situations: this isn't broken, this is an opportunity. A camera that works has only one function: it takes pictures. A nonworking camera cannot take pictures, so it's free to become something else. There aren't any rules about what it can be, and since it's already damaged, there isn't any risk.

But again, what can you do with a broken camera?

I didn't have an idea yet, so I took the camera downstairs to watch TV with me. After a couple of nights of watching Rocky movies (Rocky 3, and Rocky 4 are fun, but for my money Rocky, Rocky 2, and Rocky Balboa make for a great trilogy), I remembered those little garden rocks. With a utility knife and a little encouragement, one quickly came apart.

The LED slid out of the front reflecting cone. Then the solar panel, circuit board and light could be lifted straight out of the rock in one piece.

I think one could go into the other.

 Time to break out the Dremel.

The hole is a bit crude, but I was hoping the solar panel would cover my poor cutting skills.

Not too shabby.

I chose a drill bit that was slightly smaller in diameter than the LED, and I drilled a hole in the shutter. On the right you can see the plastic I removed to make room for the light's circuit board.

Because the LED is a bit larger than the hole, the fit is snug and feels solid.

I got lucky with the wire length. I didn't need to do any soldering.

 But does it work? You bet!

Sometimes you can turn trash into whimsy.

As soon as I get the fit finalized, I'll hot glue the pieces in place and give the camera to my daughter. The idea is that the camera can sit quietly on her window's sill charging itself all day, and then for an hour or so at night it can come alive as a nightlight. To quote my buddy Tim, "That's a perfect bulb for a nightlight. It's not too bright and actually, the light is pretty soothing." If the light does get too bright, then I can partially close the lens cover.

So, I didn't get to teach Charlotte about photography this week. Instead, I'll get to show her how renewable energy works, and how much fun it is to repurpose broken materials.

What can you do with a broken camera? Quite a bit, actually.

You Can Get A Black Eye At Quick Trip.

A few years ago Quick Trip give away these booklets, and I thought the fountain drink recipes were pretty clever.

My favorite QT mixed drink recipe is the "Zip Code". It's just too bad it has the lamest name. Why can't I make a "Code Red", or a "Frozen Cherry" or a "White Out"? It's embarrassing to say,  "I could really go for a Zip Code right about now."

Check how QT wants you to add Gummy Worms to the "Fear Factor" recipe. How are you suppose to suck a Gummy Worm through a straw? You'd have to use a garden hose. I guess that would give you the full effect, though.

Despite what Mom said, you can eat yellow snow.

I really didn't write this post so I could make fun of these recipes. I think they're cool, and since they're not on the QT website anymore, I thought I'd share. 

Now it's time to hop into the car and get myself a "Zip Code"!

sigh.