Egg Beaters.

Truthfully, I am utterly surprised any of you have gotten a wink of sleep lately.  I’m equally shocked that my Inbox hasn’t been inundated with reminders about this topic.  I mean, I have left you hanging for quite some time now.

The contest in question:  The Goose Egg vs. The Chicken Egg

The results are a little anticlimactic, to be honest.

Consider the American Buff Goose.  The average weight is about 15 pounds or so, sometimes larger.  And the New Hampshire Red Chicken?  Only about 6 pounds.   So, in this case, you truly CAN judge a book by its cover.  Yes, the goose lays the much larger egg.

We have seen the evidence.

But bigger doesn’t always mean better.  I was told by several people that I might not like the taste of a goose egg.  Hence, my apprehension in the taste test.

But I forged ahead… as all good scientists and explorers do.   We seek the truth of the proof.  Now, if I followed in the footsteps of certain politicians, I could have just made this entire story up, right out of thin air.

I could have told you that the egg was prepared by Chef Gustave Faddenricker.  On a silver platter.  And that it was presented on toast tips, with melted butter, and accompanied by applewood-smoked-bacon.   I could say that it was exquisite beyond belief, and that I vowed to bring all the people butter-drizzled-goose-eggs-on-toast-tips-with-applewood-smoked-bacon.  Trust me.

Yep.  I could snow you.  But,  I’m just some honest, down-to-earth egg eater.

So. The truth of it.  I really couldn’t tell any difference between the flavor of the chicken egg, and the goose egg.  The whites of the goose egg were a little more stiff.  But that was about it.  Oh… and it is mostly yolk.  A really big, bowling-ball-sized yolk.

That is all.

Too much yolk for me, in fact.  I like the whites just as much.

So I am sticking with my chicken eggs.  Poached, is my favorite way.
However, “the way of the egg”  isn’t like opening a box of Rice Krispies and adding the milk.  There is a certain danger, a certain amount of “living on the edge” when you eat chicken eggs.

Consider.  Every time you crack open the shell… you never know what might be lurking inside.  Most of the times, it is just a delicious breakfast, waiting to be cooked.  Other times, you get a little glimpse of chicken growth.  OR.. on occasion, the egg-gone-stinking-bad.  Whoooooooo-weeeeeeee on that.  The worst.

Now this morning, after I had ingested my two eggs, oatmeal, and toast, I went about cleaning the kitchen.  As I looked at the straining spoon, I spied something which did not belong.  It was…. a…. thing.

This has given me great cause for alarm, this entire day. I don’t know what this protrusion might have been.  I don’t know how much of that organism I may have consumed.  And…. I have seen the movie Alien.  I REALLLLLY think the guy ate an egg for breakfast.

My worry meter has been off the charts since the crack of dawn.  And to top it off, this evening, I’ve seen Sigourney Weaver, on three separate occasions,  on the TV.   Coincidence or foreshadowing?

I can only say this.  I might have eaten some of that thing.  Heaven only knows what THAT means.

So…. NOW…. NOW…   this is the part of the story where you may want to start losing some sleep.  I’ll keep you posted.

But how will you know?  Some Alien-Form may have taken over my body and I might just start making EVERYTHING up.  Maybe others in the United States have eaten such eggs.  Like… what if this happens to people in power….

Oh my gosh.  This is all too frightening too consider…..

My advice is to watch you back…. and….  stick to Rice Krispies.  Seriously.  Snap. Crackle. Pop.


“I’m not upset that you lied to me, I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche


“None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward. Because we trust. Because we have Faith.”
― Paulo Coelho, Brida


“To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved.”
― George MacDonald