I put the paring knife down and turned to the sink to pick up the cooled hard-boiled eggs. “I still think I should have had some clue that it would happen.”
“Maybe you just missed the signs.”
“What signs would there be?” I cracked, peeled and rinsed the eggs one by one. Then I sliced them and popped the yolks out into a small bowl.
“I don’t know.” Betsy, my dear friend and neighbor handed me the jar of mayonnaise from the refrigerator. “They always say hind sight is 20/20.”
“Then how come I’m just as blind as I was before?” I mashed up the yolks with some mayonnaise and a bit of powdered garlic and powdered onion. Betsy handed me the pastry bag and I shoveled the yolk mixture inside while she gathered up the slippery whites and arranged them on a plate. I squeezed the yellow cream into the hollows and gave an artistic flourish to each final squish. Betsy sprinkled the tops with paprika.
“That’s how many?” I asked.
“24 down and 216 left to go.” Betsy shoved the plate into the refrigerator and pulled out two more cartons of eggs.
“I sure wish I had known I’d be assigned the deviled eggs for the church picnic! I wish I had known!”
“Well,” said Sherri as she opened the back door, “As the chair of the Ladies Circle who is in charge of the annual church picnic, I had to make a decision. When you didn’t show up at those committee meetings as you said you would, all the other duties were taken. So, you were assigned the last job.
“It’s all you could expect.”