Eggs Have a Date -- Who Knew?

It's funny how tiny details can trigger big memories. Just the other day, for example. I was cooking, I needed an egg, so I opened the fridge, and my eyes settled on the date stamped on the end of the carton.

Wham. In an instant I was 25 years back in time, sitting in a Relief Society Homemaking Meeting.

--Now, before I go on, I should explain that everyone who is lucky enough to be a member of the one and only true church is conditioned to believe she must attend every single meeting in order to partake of the special knowledge that a poor nonmember isn't privy to. Likewise, everyone who is lucky enough to have escaped the one and only true church can recall a series of "aha" moments when she realized this so-called special knowledge maybe wasn't all that special after all.

Back to my "aha" moment 25 years ago. I was sitting in Relief Society listening to a presentation on thrifty shopping tips. The teacher, a young blonde with a feathery hairdo, picked up an egg carton from her display table, pointed at the date stamped into its styrofoam lid and--with eyes widening--proclaimed, "I didn't know this until yesterday, but eggs have a date."

As the women around me nodded sagely, my eyes glazed over and a primal aha screamed in my brain. I gave up an evening with my family to grab the inside scoop that a raw egg is perishable.

Now, I can't blame the blonde feather-head. After all, she was just doing her best to fulfill the calling her inspired priesthood leader pressured her to accept. (She's a woman. Naturally she loves to cook!) What was maddening was that I was sitting there in the first place, honestly expecting to receive "special knowledge."

Here's another example and another Homemaking Meeting. (For some reason these "ahas" tended to happen at Homemaking Night. Maybe that's why they changed the name to Personal Enrichment.)

Anyway, a middle-aged lady was teaching a lesson on multi-tasking. Mustering the full measure of her special knowledge, she advised, with a straight face, "On cleaning day, I load my dishes into the machine, press start, and while they're washing, I vacuum."

Again, the primal aha. What? You mean unlike the rest of us you don't pull up a chair and watch as the machine goes from wash . . . to rinse . . . to dry?

In retrospect, I'm grateful to these two well-meaning ding-a-lings and the like. The poor things may not have been cut out for our divine role, but they helped me see the light. Hopefully they've had their own "aha" moments, possibly on the occasions I was called upon to share my own special knowledge with the ward.

And I did take away a few good things from Homemaking Night. I recently reupholstered a chair, having learned how in my BYU married student ward. It's been a valuable skill. Although maybe not worth 10% of our income.