I can safely say I never thought I'd blog about eggs.
Life is funny, though, and by funny I mean more than just laughter inducing. I mean confusing, infuriating, frustrating, ironic, intimidating, exhausting and–yes–sometimes just funny.
This past month has been particularly funny. So funny that I've questioned and doubted and hemmed and hawed even more often than I typically do (and if you don' t know me in real life, rest assured that means there's been an inordinate amount of questions and doubt of late). Simply put, I've been a bit beside myself and all maxed out in the confused and exhausted departments.
When that happens, I look for reasons. I hope for explanations. I desperately want answers. When none of that comes, my mind wanders and I look for something–anything–that helps me make sense of what has me so jacked up.
Which is why I started to think about eggs.
It's Julia Roberts' fault, really. I'm a somewhat tepid fan but still have seen most of her movies countless times. One particularly unremarkable example–The Runaway Bride–always rubbed me the wrong way. There was something about it that I just didn't like; sure, it had Christopher Meloni and let's face it: everything is better with Christopher Meloni. But everything else was a big ol' meh to me.
Except the part about the eggs.
If you don't know the premise, Julia Roberts plays a woman (Maggie) who gets engaged but never makes it to the altar. She gets close, plans each wedding down to the details that make them each perfectly themed, but she always runs away at the last minute.
Richard Gere plays a columnist (Ike) for a recognized national newspaper who writes about Maggie's many not-quite-weddings, which draws her wrath. She writes a letter in response, which gets him fired. He treks to her quaint little town to prove to his editor (also his ex-wife) that he didn't fabricate the story.
Of course they fall in love. Of course she runs away. Of course he makes her realize why she could never commit in the first place.
It was the eggs.
As Ike interviews all of Maggie's almosts…the musician-turned-mechanic, the scientist, the (now) priest and the high school football coach (Meloni) he asks them the same question: how did she like her eggs? And they all respond 'same as me….'. Problem is, 'same as me' was of course different for each guy.
Get it? Maggie didn't know how she liked her eggs because she always just jumped on the eggwagon of the guy she was with. She wasn't herself, and until she figured out how she likes her damn eggs, she'd never be able to be in a real relationship because she didn't know herself well enough to commit to anyone else.
So for now, I'm like Maggie. Figuring out how I like my eggs.