Breakfast Karma


It’s a well known fact that I can be a bit stubborn. My stubborness took on a whole new level of meaning the other morning.

We had people over for dinner the other day and the following morning we had some great leftovers. The stuffing was left on the kitchen counter as was the broccoli but I still thought that it would make a great omellette.

As I start taking some broccoli to cut it up Jeff looks at me in disbelief.

Jeff: Are you going to eat that? It’s been out all night.

Me: It was covered, I’m sure it’s fine.

Jeff: There’s no way I would eat that now.

Me: Because you believe in food borne illness and I don’t. Once you heat it up it’s fine.

Jeff: Suit yourself. I’ll pass on the omellettes.

Me: Fine, but don’t be jealous when you see me eat it.

I go back to preparing my omellette and I warm the griddle,chop more broccoli, get some diced pepperoni, and add a little stuffing. It’s like a broccoli pie but with egg instead of bread. I’m wholly impressed with myself since I’m NOT the resident chef here, that’s Jeff’s job.

I go to the fridge to get the milk and eggs and Jeff gives me a look of disapproval.

Me: What?

Jeff: You know, if you use a couple teaspoons of water instead of milk you will get fluffy eggs.

Me: Really? Water instead of milk? Interesting.

I then proceed to pour the milk into my eggs. He may be the head chef of the Foster-Bartlett kitchen but this was MY breakfast and I planned to eat it MY way (thank you very much).

I put the broccoli mix on first and get that going then the eggs on the other side of the griddle. Jeff looks impressed but he won’t say a word. I’m basking in my cooking glory. I took the big step of adding the mix on top of one side of the eggs and did the delicate flip that makes an omellette and omellette. It was scary for a second but SUCCESS.

It looked great and smelled even better. I let Jeff savor the aroma of my creation. I could tell the look on my face was one of absolute smug greatness. I made an omellette… all by myself. Jeff looks impressed.

Me: Want some?

Jeff: A little.

I give him forkful of my creation careful that he receive some broccoli, some cheese, some pepperoni, some stuffing, and of course some egg.

Jeff: Not bad!

Me: I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten!

I sit there and eat in delicious satisfaction. It was really good. After the meal I was content and happy…

…for about 3 minutes.

All of a sudden, I felt myself heave. I looked at Jeff in confusion. Am I going to… OH MY GOODNESS… I heave again and this time I knew I had to bolt. I run to the bathroom and vomit every ounce of my beautiful breakfast. It was disgusting.

Jeff runs right behind me to make sure I’m okay. All I could think of was: I swear I will believe in food borne illness forever! Jeff takes off to the kitchen as I slowly recover from the grossness. There’s silence then I hear:

Jeff: Honey, did you check the date on the milk?

Touche. Jeff. Touche.

About the Author

Regina Foster Bartlett is a mother of two teenagers who recently married her soulmate and believes her favorite wedding gift was the addition of four stepchildren and four grandchildren! She’s a confessed tech-nerd who loves all things social media. She’s also a published freelance writer and she’s been blogging since before blogging was cool. She's the voice behind the radio broadcast and writer behind this blog. Always on the lookout for interesting stories she can be reached by emailing: or using the Contact form by clicking the link above.