Summer Yolktales

Summer Solstice – the only day of the year you can confidently state, “it’s going to be a long day.”

Here in the northern hemisphere we celebrate the summer solstice in June. This means summer has officially made an appearance. Except in Jasper, Alberta where it appears they can’t let go of winter. 

There are many different ways the Summer solstice is celebrated around the world:

• In Sweden they dance around a maypole
• In Barcelona they gather together at a bonfire
• Puerto Ricans plunge into the ocean
• Thousands gather to watch the sun align with Stonehenge 
• My hometown has a Long Days Night Festival
• & I went to book club

Did you know summer was originally called “Sumor”? I wonder if that’s because those of us without air conditioning find ourselves sumo wrestling with the bedsheets at this time of year.

There are many science-y aspects to the summer solstice that I won’t bore you with, mostly because I don’t want to look it up but also because all we really care about is the fact that summer means warmer weather, longer days, outdoor adventures and baseball player’s bums. (Just me?) 

The summer solstice doesn’t occur on the same day each year, but my mishaps tend to occur in the same place…

In Artificial Happiness, I almost cracked under pressure. Today, I cracked a lot of eggs.

I have previously written about our enhanced breakfasts where the recreation therapy department alongside food services grill a classic breakfast of eggs, sausage and bacon for the residents between the months of October and May on Fry-days.

We don’t receive 20% tips, but we do become 20% better at cooking eggs. 

One morning, the other recreation therapist was like Tony the Tiger and flaked, so her student and I fumbled through breakfast together to ensure it was “gr-r-eat!”

While setting up, the student informed me that she didn’t know how to cook different types of eggs. She suggested she’ll cook the bacon and sausage, while I cook the eggs. 

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be the more skilled cook in the room. Top Chef here I come.

Normally, the kitchen provides us with a couple of large cartons of eggs, but today we were given an entire cardboard box layered with cartons. I’m not blaming the kitchen staff for the mishaps that followed but I’m not, not blaming them. 

Even though I was a little wakey wakey eggs and shaky due to my caffeine intake, the student and I successfully executed the enhanced breakfast. However, next was the dreaded part of any meal – the clean up. 

Unfortunately, leaving the disarray for another day like I often do at home, wasn’t an option. (Pretend you didn’t see that, Mom).

So I grabbed the stacked cartons of eggs to place back in the box. The box was on the counter so I stood on the tip of my toes to reach inside.

Note to everyone: if you’re shoulder-deep in anything, it’s going to be messy. 

As soon as I started to lower the eggs into the box, I knew I had made an error in judgement. Unfortunately, I was now stuck and the only way to retract my arms was to let go of the cartons. 

When I tried to set the cartons down on an angle, I wasn’t close enough to the other stacked cartons…

Can you predict what came next? The chicken or the egg? Nah, the yolk. 

The eggs really came out of their shell; 24 eggs broke in a span of 2-4 seconds. 

Both the student and the food services assistant stood behind me, silent. 

I turned to them and declared, “well that didn’t go as planned.”

We all laughed before I wanted to cry when I realized I now had to deal with this ooey, gooey not goodness. 

In summer-y, it’s time to say, “that’s all yolks” to our winter breakfast program.