I think I am going to go ahead and classify my relationship to eggs as "complicated." On the one hand, I adore almost everything about them - how they get all wonderfully creamy when hard boiled...so runny when fried, so very big when the whites are whipped...you get the picture.
But on the other hand, egg is such a weird word to say. And to look at. It is only three letters and two of them are the letter g? How did that end up qualifying as a word?
Then there is the slightly bigger issue. I am perhaps a bit touchy about the word because it was my sister's and then consequently my best friend's (waves at Jess!) nickname for me. According to my sister, my shoulder looks like an egg... and therefore I am to be called egg. Strange child she was. Regardless, we love her. You should see the the egg stuff I have been given through the years by these two - a pot scraper shaped like an egg, a whisk with an egg for a handle, a sparkly purple egg, a really weird puzzle egg. Photos of eggs posted to my Facebook wall. Fried-egg gummies. To this day, I continue to feel anxious around the e-word.
Yet life must go on, and I just can't let my issues interfere with using this most delicious foodstuff.