(new here? read this first.)
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I discovered dinosaurs like a kid, eventually, at age 29. I never got hooked when I was younger. Older, I saw the Jurassic Park movies and liked them, but it never went any further. Dinosaurs never appealed to me until my first real museum job at the Indiana State Museum, where I wrote and produced distance learning classes – typically a one-hour live video experience to kids or adults all over Indiana and sometimes beyond. The development of content and producing was a lot of fun – especially the visual interpretation.
My first real production at the museum was in support of an exhibition called Chinasaurs – Dinosaurs from China (catchy right?). I remember being less than thrilled at the assignment, but it was my first, so I dove into the world of dinosaurs. I quickly impressed colleagues, friends and playa hatas with terms like cretaceous, triassic and herbivore. Once I learned the general history, time frame, and basic science, I began studying the actual ‘terrible lizards’ themselves. And then I was hooked, instantly.
It doesn’t get much cooler than dinosaurs, unless we’re talking about robots. Even then, it’s like comparing, well, dinosaurs and robots. Have you ever studied them? Dinos like Triceratops, Stegosaurus, Psittacosaurus, and Apatosaurus are all stunning. Kind of makes me wish Jurassic Park would actually happen. The range of dinosaurs, diversity, sizes, millions of years, herbivores, veggie eaters, defenses, methods of attacks, and much, much more is astounding.
I spent a lot of time researching dinos and preparing my first live production to a group of 3rd graders. Despite my nerves, they were captivated. They laughed at my dinosaur jokes (think Raaawwwr), were amazed at the length of the Sauropods, learned about dino diets (mostly veggie) and discovered a new profession – Paleontology. One hour passed like a New York minute. And I still haven’t forgotten it.
My kid-like dino obsession continues. I still cite random dino facts. I have dinosaur figures. I wear dino-themed t-shirts. And yes, I like my eggs over medium, in the shape of an Apatosaurus. Who doesn’t?
I have won awards for baking. State fair blue ribbons.
Ten of them.
And yet I still have a 43% fail rate on flipping fried eggs.
My success rate of cooking and peeling a hard boiled egg? Maybe 17%.
I have googled, I have trained, I have practiced. I even have a fancy timer.
I have asked Martha, Fanny, Alton and my own dad how to cool an egg down so that it peels effortlessly.
I cannot grasp the scientific concept of it.
Screw scientific, I can’t even grasp the damn concept of it period.
I have gone through elaborate ice baths and cooking techniques…all failed.
Needless to say someday I’m going to have to answer to my daughter one Easter as to why our eggs are so…well…crappy.
I can produce croissants from scratch. I can make a roast that would make your grandfather sing.
Lemon meringue pie?
In my sleep.
But eggs. Damn hard boiled eggs.
Quit your gloating. I can hear you from here, if you don’t watch out you’re going to get some egg on your face, and it’s still going to have peel on it because I can’t get it off.