"Don't Put All Your Eggs In One Basket" Episode Ninety-Six(video)

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The “Is it True?” Series Episode Ninety-Six

“Don’t Put All Your Eggs in One Basket”

I make a rockin’ egg salad but you have to like hot stuff. I put sweet crunchy pickles, horseradish and jalapenos in mine for starters. My favorite sauce is Sriracha, the one with the rooster on the bottle. I put it on everything. One of my favorite beverages is squeezed lemons, real maple syrup and cayenne pepper. I love chocolate with chili peppers. You catch my drift. Above the restaurant where I work, lives the sweetest little family, along with as many as 15 other employees. Lilly is the baker and Mario is our maintenance guru. They have 3 darling children. The 2 little boys with cowboy boots and hats, hair slicked; impeccably dressed can be seen running in, out and around the kitchen. They will come whizzing through at any given moment. One boy likes the chocolate we use for the donuts and the eclairs. You will often catch him with a wad on a spoon. The other one likes anything spicy and hot. He carries around a spice jar. He runs, shakes some in his mouth, and runs some more. He loves it. I am that kid.

If I’m not sweating, then what’s the point mind you? If you hold your hand over my head, you should be able to feel an aura of heat pulsating back against your palm. Heck, you should see it. Our fabulously fun cooks are always trying to see if they can make me squirm. I order something and I see them waiting with a smile behind their eyes. When it gets that hot, I can’t really taste anything, nevertheless I will eat it. It’s not just a meal, it’s an experience. I am always looking to feel different, anything other than what I am feeling. Hot stuff will take my mind off everything else, kinda like a drug does. When I’m on fire, that’s all there is for that moment in time. Some may find this quite odd I know, but I find it a relief.



I was super starving in LA. I’d been at some seminar that started at dawn and I could barely get out of bed let alone eat breakfast. The most I could manage was coffee. I know. It’s not food, but to some, it kinda is. Before I knew it, I was having a late night hunger crisis. I found an authentic Mexican restaurant. Score! They’re the best. It was packed, but I was holdin’ a number and waitin’ for food. There was a condiment cart of sorts behind me filled with guacamole, limes, cilantro, green salsa, red salsa, all my faves….and peppers, all kinds of peppers. If there were chips, then the meal would have been nothing but a garnish, but there weren't so I snuck a handful of peppers instead. I wolfed them down cuz I was way too hungry. Steam was coming out my ears. I seriously felt like I was going to pass out. I had to sit down. My hair felt hot. I kid you not when I tell you I considered leaving for the ER. I ate. I felt better.

There was another time that I harvested some peppers from my garden. I had planted all kinds. I had no idea what I had. That year not only did I cram my designated plot full of stuff, I had things planted all over the yard… tomatoes, cucumbers, and rhubarb mixing with the flowers and lettuce with the grasses. Regardless of their differences, the friends and enemies socialized alike. This allowed me quite a bit of room for tons of basil, rosemary, and of course peppers. This evening was not unlike any other, so I’m out there milking the crop in the dark. Occasionally I bring a flashlight, usually I don’t bother. I came in and was chopping up the peppers. In a matter of minutes, my hands were stinging, then sizzling, then burning. I considered calling 911 or just driving to United. Word travels fast in our town, the recovery capital of the world. I can imagine the news. Woman rushes self to hospital. Apparently believing her hands to be on fire and concerned they would simply fall off. I have quite an imagination.

So, as I was eating the egg salad I thought, people oughta know. For those who rock the hot stuff like me….they should have this recipe. But then I remembered how small the world is and the oatmeal. It took the longest time for me and my oatmeal recipe to disappear from the top of a google search for my name. I actually wrote the magazine in which the article had been published and asked them to “take it down.” I'm sure they had a good laugh. In those days I didn’t, nor did most of my friends, have a computer. I had no idea what one measly 3 minute telephone interview would mean to my internet presence. If anyone was searching me, my rock star ex-husband, future husbands and so on…..according to the internet….I didn’t graduate high school, my brother was a racket ball champion, there was a Czech painter with my last name and I knew how to keep oatmeal from turning out like glue in a microwave.

I am extreme. Put it all on red. I will save a dollar in my pocket. As much as I am risky, I am also cautious. It’s an odd mix. I only lend what I am able to lose. I lend or bet it all if I believe. It would be nice if I believed more. I am a girl with a head full of chatter on her shoulders. Some would call it rational. I‘d often call it fear. My parents warned and then accused me of “burning the candle at both ends.” I didn’t listen and now at this point, I consider it a skill. I cannot do the sensible thing, and do “the other” on the side. I cannot save what I love for later or for spare time that never comes along. It didn’t work for me, so however crazy or impractical it may be, I do them both. I play it safe, but I play hard. There is no other way for I must pick up my own pieces if they fall, so I do not let them fall. I admire those who do though, those who dare to wage it all. Lose it all and get back up again. Today this is my story, tomorrow may change it all. I Honor My Truth!

Love

Debra
The Honor Your TruthCommunity