eggs and things

My relationship with McDonald's continues to deteriorate.

I've never been a food label fanatic (my motto is Andrew Zimmern's: If it looks good, eat it! Addendum: If it fell on the floor but still looks good, dust it off, then eat it!) ... But the other day I discovered that what I thought was a harmless breakfast sandwich from good old Mickey D's packs 87 percent of one's daily cholesterol. It's all the fault of the egg, of course. Although this website boldly claims that eggs are nature's Superfood. As in Dickens it was the best of times and the worst of times, eggs are apparently the best of foods and the worst of foods. If you could only eat one thing all day, apparently it should be an egg.

Anyway, I never deluded myself into thinking McDonald's was good for me, just into thinking Egg McMuffins weren't all that bad. HA.

I'd REALLY break up with McDonald's, for good, if not for the second shocker: their fries, according to the website, have zero mg of cholesterol. HUH?

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So, we ate at Genki and then visited S.'s friend and their brand-spanking-new baby tonight. He was a crumply sleepykins, all of seven pounds. I just love that milky baby smell, and that heat that they give off, and those little mewly noises they make. Yeah. As of late, my body has been telling me it wants to have babies, like everyone around me. Three years ago, I could not stomach other people's stories of labor, episiotomy, Pitocin drips, or epidurals. I was bored senseless by Baby Einstein debates, discussions about Mommy and Me yoga classes, carseats, and allergies. Frankly, I was bored of the actual babies these friends of friends kept holding out to me as if I were supposed to be magnetically attracted to them because I was a woman of childbearing age. The guys I dated three, four years ago, I would never for a second have considered having children with, and this must have had something to do with my apathy about babies at the time.

Well, the maternal thing has finally kicked in, we'll just leave it at that. I know you don't have eggs forever, and with every passing year the risk of complications in pregnancy increase dramatically, blah blah blah, but I'm no fool, and am planning on ignoring the call of motherhood for as long as I can. I love Other People's Babies; I can hold them and cuddle them till my arms fall off. And cats, I love cats. And I sort of, sometimes, like my dog. But for now the only eggs I'm concerned with are the ones in my breakfast sandwich.

Or not, as it were.

Post Script: S. just discovered that the crinkly, crackly noise coming from the floor was the dog trying to eat a Dramamine tablet he stole out of my purse. Through the entire crinkly, crackly thing, I didn't look up once till S. yelled "Hey, what are you eating?!"

Yeah, I'm gonna be a great mother.