Bonnie's House

This morning, as I made breakfast for one (N's fasting), I messed up my over easy eggs--spectacularly. I turned them a handful of seconds too soon and that's when they folded their white wings over their yolky faces. And when I attempted to scoop them onto my saucer, their fraught golden yellow yolks, split and spilled.  The end result, was about as close as I'll get to accidentally making "egg in a cup with soldiers". Not to worry, yolky saucer! Toast will come to the rescue! Nom nom nom

Then BANG! An old dusty memory popped up. There I was in Bonnie's house. I must've spent the night. Was I eight or nine? I'm not clear on the details. I remember a cluttered place, filled with family, love and joy and a dog named Rowdy. AND Bonnie made us eggs for breakfast. She had a method that required no turning, no breaking of those yolks. She used bacon fat to cook the eggs and then she spooned and spooned sizzling bacon fat/grease over the top of the eggs to finish the cooking. And this runt thought it was magic.

What happened to us, Bonnie? I don't have a clue. Hope you're doing well and still enjoying those eggs. Love, K