In the past week, I've made two batches of deviled eggs, which makes me horribly miss my mother. I think our recipe came from her mother, and I distinctly remember being a little girl and my mother teaching me how to both boil and then peel the quickly cooled eggs. As I bent over my sink and dunked my hands into the eggy water, I remembered the
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Peeling eggs is a chore for me more of the time. Makes me crazy. Though, it does, sometimes, have a meditative feel to it. Family traditions have a way of being that way, though.
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