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Good news! According to my cousin Chris, who has a degree in psychology, I'm not OCD. I'm just strange. I can handle strange. Here, let me tell you what the deal is and you can tell me if I'm strange.


Everyone knows or should know the proper way to build a sandwich. I'm astonished that most people don't. Sandwiches must be cut from top to bottom and not corner to corner. The only two exceptions are a grilled cheese sandwich or a turkey club. You may cut these diagonally.

For me, the most important part of the sandwich is the bottom left corner. Since you should eat the right side first, starting from the top, the bottom left then becomes the last bite. In order to have a perfect last bite so that you have a good lasting memory of your sandwich, that last bite has to have the perfect combination of whatever's in your sandwich. This requires that you make certain that last bite has the perfect proportion of Miracle Whip (not mayonnaise), the correct amount of ham, and one last bit of cheese. I can't believe some people don't know this.


There is only one way to cook a fried or poached egg. The white must be completely cooked, no running allowed, and the yolk cannot be even partially solid. The yolk must be runny. It's a simple rule.

When I first met the Lovely Louise, she stayed at my house one weekend. In the morning, she offered to make me poached eggs, my favorite. Now here was my problem: what if she overcooked the eggs? I sometimes do that myself, and when I do, I simply throw them away and start over. But if she overcooked them, what would I do? I really liked this woman and didn't want to scare her off. If they're overcooked, should I just keep my mouth shut and eat them? Or should I do what I would normally do, which would be to throw them away?

Decision time. The eggs were overcooked. What would you have done? I threw them away and cooked some poached eggs myself, the right way. It couldn't have been too insulting, she's still here.

Another time, Louise asked if I wanted to go to IHOP for breakfast. I told her no and explained why. All of their egg dishes came with three eggs. The problem is, when you only have three sausages and you cut each one into three pieces (the correct number), the number of sausage bits exactly equals the number of bites you can get out of two eggs. It's balanced. Yin and Yang, right?

She gave me a very strange look and said, “You do know that you can order only two eggs, right?” I did not know that. I had stayed away from IHOP for over twenty years because of the three-egg thing. No one had ever told me I could order only two. I can now eat at IHOP again. Thank you, Louise.


I don't like it when the foods on my plate touch each other. Separate but equal, say I. I also eat my vegetables first, then the starch and then the meat. My food does not mix. Again, there is only one exception. Mashed potatoes and corn can be mixed. That's just as God intended. Everything is put on the plate separately and it all needs to be eaten separately. Otherwise, why isn't all the food just piled up in the center? I know, right?


I still avoid stepping on cracks because I don't want my mother to blame me if she should somehow break her back.


All my life I've been counting thirteens. When I tap my fingers, I tap all four on the table three times and then tap one finger just once. Thirteen! I have lots of ways of counting thirteens with my fingers.

When I walk, I count steps in thirteens. When I've done it thirteen times, I have 169 steps, which is a number perfectly divisible by thirteen. Coincidence? I don't think so.

There's more—lots more—but I think I may have exposed enough of myself at this point. If we should ever meet and you see my fingers moving, I'm not fidgeting, I'm counting my thirteens. You should try it. It will give you inner peace and harmony.


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