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Egg in My Lap, Not on My Face

Much of my trips blend together.  A regularity and rhythm has settled in.  The hellos, how do you dos, talking about my beers and beer in general, eating good food, drinking good beer with cool people.

Certain details stand out though, and my mind keeps wandering back to them.  Like last week, when I was at breakfast at Moody Gardens, in Galveston Texas.  My brother in law Ozzie sat to my right, to my left and across from me were Charlotte and Ash, the owners of Duff beer.  We all had loaded up at the buffet.  I had a fresh fruit plate and another plate with a mini biscuit, bacon, and scrambled eggs with chive.  When I put my fork to the eggs a handful of them leaped up like they had magic beans in them and landed in the napkin on my lap.  To my horror I looked up and saw Charlotte had observed the whole episode.  The egg in my lap was steaming.

“Yeah, they’re alive.  Some of them jumped up at me too,” she said.

I thought to myself, “Well, at least they are in my lap, and not on my face.”

I folded the napkin over the egg and we continued to discuss the distribution of Clown Shoes to the state of Texas.


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