I recall a friend and fellow blogger detailing her husband’s minor ordeal ordering a hard-boiled egg in Scotland. He got a soft-boiled egg. He would reorder a hard-boiled egg, twice more I believe, only to receive a freshly soft-boiled egg. They realized that their understanding of a hard-boiled egg and the Scots version differed.
Apparently I’m the Scots person in my household, because I like a six-minute egg with a soft center. Frank is the
seppo* who expects a thoroughly cooked center. He made his point in our fridge recently, as you will see below.
Speaking of different perspectives on things, how about having freezing temps and light snows in my area, and my boss – who spent most of his life in Iowa – not getting why we are freaking out. Californians in rain, Floridians in frost, Oregonians in snow and ice. We are useless.
Following the photo evidence of an egg dispute are pictures of the effects of freezing fog in my garden. Quite lovely, but too cold to make sure I took the photos in focus. They include a rare photo of Grendel, stealin’ our heats.
Happy New Year!
*We learned from fellow Aussie travelers that this is their term for Americans. It is Cockney rhyming slang for septic tank = Yank)
CatNISS 
December 31, 2013 at 4:36 am
That made the tears of laughter sprout from my eyes. Thank you!!!!
December 31, 2013 at 6:45 am
I recognise that yank! And the pictures are absolutely gorgeous. You should submit to the Oregonian annual photo competition!
December 31, 2013 at 6:48 am
Yet another reason I love Frank. He understands proper eggs preparation.