Make the Omelette

I don't like to make goals. It could be fear of failure or lack of ambition or just a preference for whimsical, unstructured hope.  This is probably why I prefer Christmas over New Years- Christmas is for nostalgia and reminiscing and lots of treats, and New Years is for goal-setting and resolutions and dieting, oh my! But I made a goal to learn how to make an omelette, and today I did.  

Shep was napping, and I shuffled into the kitchen to grab a handful of chocolate chips for breakfast (see? Not New Years resolution material) and saw a fresh carton of humble brown eggs. I bypassed the chocolate chips (okay, I still grabbed a few) and instead grabbed the eggs, Black Forest ham, sharp white cheddar, and my favorite little personal egg pan. As a new mom, making breakfast is one of the kindest things I do for myself. There are definitely better ways I could spend this time alone- laundry, cleaning, heck, even writing! But making myself breakfast reminds me that I am loved and worthy of care and valued, not because of what I do, but because of my humanity- my humanity which needs eggs and cheese and caffeine to keep it scooting along. 

I poured myself some milk and prepared to do my normal breakfast scramble routine, but then the pan caught my eye, and maybe it was the way that bright golden orange yolk glistened or maybe it was the Latino music blaring next door,  but something made that pan wink, 'hey, how about that omelette?' 

With Julia Child's wisdom ringing in my ears, I readied my eggs, looked for parsley to garnish, found none (because I hate parsley and all I think it's good for is keeping rabbits out of the real garden), and worked up my confidence to roll that omelette up. I kept lifting up the edge with my rubber spatula, looking underneath with the concern and uncertainty of an expectant father at a Lamaze class. Then the time came- the critical point where it would either burn or become my breakfast. I scooted one side over the other, and rolled it onto my plate. It was beautiful in its imperfection. It was a goal set and actualized. It was My Omelette. And let me tell you, that was the best omelette I ever had. 

my darling clementine

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