Sometimes Your The Windshield, Sometimes Your The Bug

What started out as a bucolic spring afternoon, progressed with me upended in chicken shit and broken eggs at the barn. I'd collected the eggs and looked around the hay bales for some stragglers who like to try and trick me and hide their eggs in the goose's nest. I climbed and raided said nest, then began to descend and got snared by fence wire used to hold the hay bales together. As I flew chickenlike through the air, the eggs went flying and my feelings were hurt, not to mention my neck has a crook in it now. So no eggy recipe today. Hope I can turn my head tomorrow. Got to plant the rest of my strawberries. Happy birthday to my dear friend Mary Kay. She's the best egg of all.