Friends

Morning Dish
Shredded chicken and egg breakfast taco

Evening Dish
Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Are we friends because we understand each other or was it because we understood each other that we became friends? All the same, I'm blessed to be surrounded by friends that understand me on so many levels. One of those levels is wit. I'd like to think if a video camera followed me and my group of friends around, the interactions captured would provide for some phenomenal sitcom material. Be it spoken (think HIMYM) or silent (think The Office), our actions, for the most part, are humorous, sharp, unpredictable. And when they are not, comments such as, "cricket...cricket" and "Is this thing [microphone] on?" are plentiful, Jim Halpert glances go flying, and order is once again restored. Exchanges like the one I recently had with a friend, as exemplified below, happen more frequently than you may think. Feel free to interject with your very own "cricket...cricket" as you see fit.

Note: Elements of the following chat transcript have been redacted to protect the anonymity of the other party.

Formula for Boiling Eggs

Morning Dish
Garlic fried rice with eggs

Evening Dish
Speaking of soft-boiled eggs, I stumbled across this how-to article via Lifehacker on cooking perfectly boiled eggs using science. The circumference of an egg...how high am I above sea level...really? Taking measurements may seem like overkill, but who said achieving perfection was easy?

Rotten Eggs

Morning Dish
Scrambled egg, ham, and mozzarella sandwich

Evening Dish
For the past year and a half up until two weeks ago, I never considered taking the highway home regularly after work. Outside of spring, summer, and winter breaks -- when school buses are off the roads and college students out of town -- I assumed the stretch of MoPac from campus on up to 183 was as packed as [insert clever simile here]. Lamar to 45th to Burnet to 183 was my afternoon commute until a coworker who lives farther north of me said, "It's not as bad as you think at 5 o'clock." And I leave work at 4:30. If x equals 7-10 minutes multiplied by most work days during this past year and a half, then x is a chunk of my life I'll never get back. Dare I take MoPac in the morning? To be continued...