The Egg and I

Egg

From Old Norse egg, from Germanic *ajja-, from Proto-Indo-European *oh₂ujom (stem *oh₂ujo-).

Pronunciation

• ĕg, /eg/

Noun

Singular egg

Plural eggs

egg (plural eggs)

1. (Zoology, countable) An approximately spherical or ellipsoidal body produced by birds, snakes, insects and other animals housing the embryo during its development.
2. (countable) The egg of a domestic fowl as an item of food.
3. (uncountable) The contents of one or more (hen's usually) eggs as a culinary ingredient, etc.

   I also determine the minimal amount of egg required to make good mayonnaise.

4. (Biology, countable) The female primary cell, the ovum.

Verb

Infinitive to egg

Third person singular eggs

Simple past egged

Past participle egged

Present participle egging

to egg (third-person singular simple present eggs, present participle egging, simple past egged, past participle egged)

1. To throw eggs at.
2. (with "on"): To encourage.
3. To add beaten egg (cooking).

Related terms

bad egg boiled egg cuckoo’s egg curate’s egg don't put all your eggs in one basket Easter egg egg and spoon race egg beaters egg cup egg flip egg-nog, eggnog egg on

egg-shell, eggshell egg white egg yolk fried egg golden egg good egg have egg on one’s face nest egg over-egg power-egg scrambled egg, scrambled eggs

Egg or Eggs may refer to:

In Biology:

• Egg (biology), the ovum of animals together with protective layers and nutrients for the developing embryo.
• Egg cell or ovum, the female sex cell in animals and plants.

• Egg (food) Edible eggs normally come from birds, but they can also come from reptiles, amphibians and fish.
• Easter egg decorated eggs in the Christian tradition
• List of egg dishes

In geography:

• Egg Island, Bahamas
• Egg, Switzerland, a Swiss municipality
• Little Egg Harbor

In gaming:

• Easter egg (media), hidden message or feature in an object such as a movie, book, CD, DVD, computer program, or video game

In other fields:

• Egg Banking plc, an online bank in the United Kingdom
• Eggs (film), a film by Norwegian director Bent Hamer
• Egg (geometry), any curve resembling an ellipse
• Egg tooth, an anatomical feature
• EGG, the Arts Show, a former program on PBS
• The Egg (building), a part of the Empire State Plaza
• Augustus Egg, a Victorian artist
• Curate's egg, an expression meaning something that is partly good and partly bad.
• Darning egg, a sewing tool
• World egg (or cosmic egg) is a mythological motif
• Fabergé eggs, a collection of priceless jewelery easter eggs.
• The Egg War an 1863 conflict between rival Farallon Islands' egging companies

Who knew there was so much to learn about one little three letter word like egg? My mind swims with the multitude of ways the word egg is used in daily life found on wikipedia.com. My affair with the egg. I love eggs. I love the very word, EGG. Love the shape, the texture, the feel. Heavy and bulbous on one end, narrow and pointed on the other. It floats. The way it feels in your hand. Love all the colors and speckles. Fried, scrambled, poached, boiled...nope, not really. Eating and eggs do not really fit together well for me. I'm more inclined to eat things that have eggs in them, like cookies, or cake. Bread. Deviled eggs have their place in summer picnics, and I do like egg salad sandwiches on occasion, but generally eggs and I have a more aesthetic relationship.

I have however, always longed to own chickens. The thought of reaching under a warm feather pillow body to gather eggs has always attracted me, though I have a very real fear of those sharp eyes and beaks. And the sounds they make, that kind of cooing chuckle as they busy themselves. Rather a comforting coo of a sound.



The very idea of having a box of fluffy peeps delivered in a box by post gives me an undeniable thrill. I read a description of bantam chicks being the size of bumblebees and I've been besotted with the idea ever since. This box of black beady eyed fellows is likely to be as close as I'll ever come to the real thing....


Spring. Renewal. Rebirth. Resurrection. Easter. The season of the egg. Eggs have been viewed as symbols of new life and fertility through the ages. The egg is nature's perfect package. It has, during the span of history, represented mystery, magic, medicine, food and omen. It is the universal symbol of Easter celebrations throughout the world and has been dyed, painted, adorned and embellished in the celebration of its special symbolism.

Long before the egg became closely entwined with the Christian Easter, it was honored during many rite-of-Spring festivals. The Romans, Gauls, Chinese, Egyptians and Persians all cherished the egg as a symbol of the universe. From ancient times eggs were dyed, exchanged and shown reverence. In Pagan times the egg represented the rebirth of the earth. The long, hard winter was over; the earth burst forth and was reborn just as the egg miraculously burst forth with life.

With the advent of Christianity the symbolism of the egg changed to represent, not nature's rebirth, but the rebirth of man. Christians embraced the egg symbol and likened it to the tomb from which Christ rose.

I may not own any chickens, but I have quite a collection of real eggs. Blown ones, fragile as icing and light as air. Blue Cayuga duck eggs. Araucana chicken eggs in tones of olive and blue. Quail eggs, blue-green with brown speckles. I have the occasional brown and cream and unusual speckled egg. I heap them in Nantucket baskets, beach buckets and French bread pans. Blue, brown, white...chocolate eggs and bon bon eggs...how does that go??

On Easter morn at early dawn before the cocks were crowing,
I met a bob-tail bunnykin and asked where he was going,
" 'Tis in the house and out the house a tipsy, tipsy-toeing,
'Tis round the house and 'bout the house a-lightly I am going."
"But what is that of every hue you carry in your basket?"
"'Tis eggs of gold and eggs of blue; I wonder that you ask it.
'Tis chocolate eggs and bonbon eggs and eggs of red and gray,
For every child in every house on bonny Easter day"
He perked his ears and winked his eye and twitched his little nose;
He shook his tail - what tail he had - and stood up on his toes.
"I must be gone before the sun; the East is growing gray;
'Tis almost time for bells to chime." So he hippity-hopped away.
~Rowena Bastin Bennett, 1937

If I love eggs, I love nests even more. A nest is a place of refuge. Soft and down filled, the perfect place for babies to sleep. Or perhaps fairies, like Titania in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Memories of brushing Maverick's golden hair outside and watching the birds come to collect the creamy tufts of fluff and carry them off for their nests. What wonderful soft beds those babies must have had. Once found a nest woven in and out with the perforated strips from computer paper. Birds are ingenious recyclers. Have laid the dining table with gi-normous grapevine and twig nest lined with feathers. Giant nests to tiny nests, each carrying precious eggy cargo.

Beach buckets with raffia nests of blue goose eggs. Grapevine wreath nests with speckled quail eggs, Nantucket baskets filled to the brim with blue and green eggs. I even managed to find a wreath made up of eggs in nothing but shades of Martha Stewart green.

Best of all are the chocolate nests filled with Cadbury chocolate eggs. My favorites are the ones with all blue eggs, of course.

Among the orchard weeds, from every search,
Snugly and sure, the old hen’s nest is made,
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid;

Bright sun greets me nearly every morning now, and the doggies are enjoying life with an open door most days. Sunlight floods across the hardwood floor and they lay in lumps soaking it up. Pink buds are swelling on the chanitcleer pear tree and flowering crab. It is still too early to call, but it appears most of the new trees survived the winter. Three of the five clumps of Forester Reed Grass are sending up new shoots. Good signs.



In just four short weeks a house grew in next door. Three more are quickly sprouting next to it. My view to the north has shrank to include shingles out the upper level windows, and walls on the lower. Depressing. Never imagined it to be so close. Never imagined how claustrophobic I would feel. To my mind, the family room, my favorite room in the whole house is ruined.


Hope I like the people who will come to live there...perhaps we can exchange cups of sugar across the fence? At Thanksgiving we can just set up a table across the entire expanse and pass the food from one house to the other. Not sure what I hate more. Suburbia or the embarrassing fact that I am part of it.


We have workers rear ends in our faces 8 am-7:30 pm Monday through Saturday. The dogs are quickly losing their minds and voices. Worry that a summer on the new patio is now lost to the sound of nail guns. Shite. Here's Elliot watching the work in progress. I can count six wrinkles down his back. (He prefers to be called Ellios the Spartan since seeing 300).


Have begun teaching knitting one day a week to a friend and her daughter. It's going well so far and gives me a bit of extra money. Would like more students but hesitate advertising for fear of the "Highlands Ranch" type it might attract. Work continues on the moth shawl. After ripping out 15 rows and beginning the second section again, I am now 1/2 way through the second design band.


Worked up a booga bag with my students as a first project. Love the color, Noro kureyon #40. The whole world must love that color as it almost impossible to find.

I've got 3 books worth of Icelandic sweater patterns but all I can do with them is drool as the Alafoss yarn still has not arrived. Canadian shipping must be by mounty. Waiting for the delivery is as hard as waiting for that first trip to the amusement park each summer.

Stocked up on paper and cardstock and did manage to scrap 4 pages. Have gathered up Alexanders photos but haven't occomplished anything but another pile on my desk. Endless errands and household needs always seem to come before my own. So March endeth soft as a lambkin in a green meadow and April begineth. Long live the season of the egg.

-Tigerlily

That Patch of Green

Evenings are slowly becoming lighter but the air still breathes a chill. Spring is biding her time, gaining strength. Warm chinooks have already begun to blow and seemingly overnight the snow shrank away and ran like a river to the sea. The yard is a sodden mess, the snow having laid upon it so long it is like a seeping sponge. What a thrill to see green grass again. Alas, the excitement was short lived, as the ground was soon covered in snow again. The wild winds of March have begun blustering. Soon, days of unrelenting hurricaine gale force winds will drive out the lingering brown, dead, winter air and suck the excess moisture from the earth. I've had enough winter. Had enough cold. Had enough ice. In desperation, (and inspiration for this blog) I snapped photos of anything green or spring like to make me feel better. Like my clump of fiber optic grass I've been wintering in the house. AKA bird's nest grass. It can't take the cold, so I've had a bit of beach in the house with me all winter. I do have two little miniature African violets triumphantly thumbing their noses, err..leaves at Old Man Winter.


Valentines Day has come and gone, and my lovely dozen of red roses has gone to compost, but my gift from Mike looks at me with a rather pucker faced expression from the glass fronted cupboard constantly. I got a fishbowl. A bowl that is a fish. Get it? Funny. Came from the Great Indoors. Too cute.

Concentrating all my efforts on making my house green. Reduce, reuse and recycle. Kermit the frog was wrong. Being green is easier than you think.


"Sea green," or "see green" depending on how you look at it...

Ordered up additional bins for recycling. Was pleasantly surprised to discover Hefty one zip bags are recyclable, as are most plastic boats my meat comes in. The Little Cesar dog food and Yoplait yogurt cups are as well. Pledge duster handles can be recycled. Cool. Was very disappointed to discover several "organic" products came in packaging completely devoid of that earth friendly triangle. Since I had to empty the kitchen sink cupboard for the faucet repair, I went through all my products and even got rid of some. Trying to use cloth instead of paper towels for cleaning. Now that's hard. Is so much more preferable to wipe down the toilet and imagine all those nasty things being tossed away in the trash rather than having to handle it in the laundry. Blech. Caldrea products are on my counter now and they work far better than their grocery story equivalents. Have become devoted user of Lush products. Both are all natural, vegetarian, vegan and in no way ever used on animals. My skin has never looked better. At the age of 47 I have finally found something to shrink my pores. (if you desire more info on either of these product lines LMK)

I have always been an obsessive light turner outer, but now have added shutting down all computers and other electronic devices when not in use. TV, DVD player, stereo, etc. to save additional pounds of carbon dioxide from escaping into the air. One tree can absorb one ton of CO2 over its lifetime. If all mine survive the winter, and we added six, that's six tons of CO2 removed from the air over the next several years. My contribution to the earth may be small, but if everyone does their best, the quantity of good would be significant. AND, thank you to everyone who responded to my email and sent postcards to Washington for the upcoming hearings on global warming.


Feel the green. Celebrate spring and St. Patrick's day. Drink green koolaide and eat fish and chips. Fish and chips are way better than corn beef and cabbage, and anyway, no one in Ireland really eats that stuff. Yuk. Go rent The Quiet Man, Far and Away, The Devils Own, The Matchmaker or Father Ted. Add a lilt to your voice and a shamrock to your button hole. This is the melting pot, America. Everyone has a bit of the green in them somewhere. My mother said the Scottish and Irish she had in her was what made her interesting. Well, it certainly made her a firecracker. It may have been diluted to a weak Irish tea by the time I got it, but I cling to it nonetheless.

Just returned from seeing Mike off at the sky ride for the airport. He is off to Alabama for a hazardous materials course. Will be exposed to several toxic substances. Am trying not to think he could be at any kind of real risk. Suppose he could come back as some kind of radioactive super hero with a spandex suit and start glowing in the dark, but rather doubt it. The girls and I are on our own, and right out of the box my car is dead as a doornail. Must call a tow truck to haul its carcass to the mechanic in the morning. I think the car is getting back at me for thinking about shopping for a hybrid.

Days continue to be eaten by the house monster. Gobble gobble and still the scrapbook pile gathers dust and the sewing remains undone. Did get a handyman to come in and get several jobs done. Shade has been hung over the kitchen sink just in time, as the morning sun is growing stronger each day. Will no longer need to wear sunglasses and grope blindly for the coffeemaker each morning. The kitchen faucet having gone completely wonky, traveling at will around the sink is once again grounded. How nice to have a husband for hire! Simply hand over "honey do" list and credit card.

Watched the Oscars. Dresses were lovely, event boring, but Inconvenient Truth one best documentary and song. And Happy Feet best animated film. Excellent! Brings global warming to even more people's attention. Can't help wondering how much Bush must be seething over all this...bad Julie, it is wrong to wish bad juju on others, karma will come back and smack you on the side of the head. Oh hell, it already did, with a $800 + car bill! Barely survived the week driving Mike's Ford Focus. Shifting, shifting, tippy toe trying to get clutch in. If someone offered me a car free, I would refuse it if it was a stick. Darling PT Cruiser was finally back in the bosom of family on Thursday.

Submerged myself in the office and completed a scrapbook page for the pet book. Had to wear a face mask because of the accumulated dust. This is quite a breakthrough after months of staring at the piles and wondering what would topple first. Rather momentous event as it was becoming dangerous in there. This will be Dusty's entry. Sobbed my way through writing his bio. How will I ever get through this album? Have decided I must set aside time to scrap each day like I set aside time to knit.


And, speaking of knitting, Beth and I are
embarking on the great Icelandic sweater knit-a-long.
Ok, there are only three of us on the trip,
the guide and two trekkers, but we've ordered our Lopi yarn, and are hoping for something resembling this when we finish.


For those friends who have followed the Loincloth Butler story, the movie 300 opens at last this Friday, March 9th. Have bought my tickets in advance for the IMAX screening. If I'm going to see the Loincloth Butler nude, I want it to be on the big screen. Have never managed to sit through any IMAX film without getting nauseous from motion sickness. Since this film doesn't involve planes flying through canyons or stampeding herds of wildebeasts on the African plains, maybe I'll be ok. Here's hoping all those six pack toting Spartans keep my brain distracted and I can keep my popcorn down. -Tigerlily