Happiness is a hard-boiled egg on your salad

All this preparation and moving has served as a god excuse to eat a lot of crap. This weekend, I ate quesadillas, donuts, a chicken finger SANDWICH. Even with all the up-and-down the ladder, paint-rolling, etc., I feel like a big blob. So I grabbed a salad from the coffee shop at lunch and the thing that makes it moderately satisfying is the lovely google-eye of half a hard-boiled egg.

I'm making some egg-and-olive salad this week.

In a not-unrelated matter, I was reading the current edition of Martha Stewart Living, and Martha's letter was all about eggs (with some great recipes for poached eggs and hollandaise. Say what you will about Martha, but her recipes are good). I was most struck, though, with the way she obfuscated her prison term as if she had been away on a long business trip. She mentioned "moving to her new home" in Bedford, NY, and how she was looking forward to mastering her new sewing machine (subtext: she's under house arrest and can't go outside to work in the garden).

Of course, you may say, what else is she gonna do? I'm glad she at least makes reference to her jail stint. It's all just so uniquely Martha. Well, welcome home, gal. Now that my neighbor Bren is off the show, I can't wait to see Martha's version of the Apprentic. Read more dispatches from Martha about her "time in West Virginia" here.