I finally understand when people say they are overrun with eggs. The difference? I don’t feel too bad about it. I’ve given away at least 7 dozen by now, and have another few dozen to finish giving out to the neighbors. Eventually, we will sell the eggs (and hatching eggs, and chicks) to offset the cost, but so far?

I love it.

It’s like a game, every day. How many eggs?

Lately, that’s been almost 10 eggs a day. Granted, Mike and I can put away a lot of eggs in a week, especially when I make our breakfasts and lunches like I’m supposed to. Easily 20 eggs in a week, more if I bake. Still, 2 dozen eggs falls severely short of the 5-6 dozen we are getting every week.

So, on Saturday night, while trying to clean up the kitchen and at a loss of what to do with the eggs we had overrunning the place, I made a quick decision.

Deviled eggs.

Now, I don’t know how you feel. But I feel like deviled eggs are one of the tastiest things on the planet. When I see them at parties, or Christmas dinner, or hell–a funeral–I make a beeline for them. I always get at least two, but I could easily take the whole plate with me.

Mike’s the same.

Usually, though, I give up halfway through. I get tired of peeling them perfectly, and they never come peeled perfectly. The eggs I was using on Saturday were old enough that they were cooperating, but still young enough that they had chunks missing on some of them. Usually–usually I just make egg salad.

Well, I powered through. I turned roughly 19 eggs into deviled eggs.

Then Mike and I proceeded to eat every last one for Saturday “dinner” and Sunday breakfast.

Maybe I should have made the egg salad instead.