Each egg I cracked this morning...

...had a chunk of shell about 1/8 of an inch fall into it. And I cooked four eggs for me and the GF. So I had to fish out four nearly identical bits of eggshell, one after another, before breakfast. Grumble, grumble.

My newest breakfast accessory is: I got a tin of dolmathes from Trader Joes, and cut the bottom out of it. It is just the right size for making a perfectly circular fried egg, which I like to do sometimes for no good reason.

Speaking of things done for no good reason: the GF and I were visiting my parents and brother in Southern California, and I decided to make Gas-house Eggs for breakfast. (I got the term "Gas-house Eggs" from the really awful musical "Moon Over Miami" -- you probably know them as Toad-in-the-Hole.) So Mom says, "Wait! I have Toad-in-the-Hole bread ready to go in the freezer!" Turns out she had made something that required large, circular crutons, so she cut out a load of holes with the cookie cutter, and then put the loaf in the freezer for later. Anyway, the confused look on the GF's face when she tottered out of the bedroom for breakfast and saw this entire loaf of bread with a core sample drilled out of it was priceless.