“A work of real comic genius. . . . A wonderful, funny, warm, honest book, and, to use a much overused word, a classic.” — Michael Korda, author of Country Matters When Betty MacDonald married a Marine and moved to a small chicken farm on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, she was largely unprepared for the rigors of life in the wild. With no running water, no electricity, a house in need of constant repair, and days that ran from four in the morning to nine at night, the MacDonalds had barely a moment to put their feet up and relax. And then came the children. Yet through every trial and pitfall—through chaos and catastrophe—this indomitable family somehow, mercifully, never lost its sense of humor. A beloved literary treasure for more than half a century, Betty MacDonald's  The Egg and I  is a heartwarming and uproarious account of adventure and survival on an American frontier. "Anyone who has ever struggled with a farm or even with a small garden will especially enjoy this breezy autobiography. But everyone will find its hilarious reminiscences of an unconventional childhood and of unique experiences in the Northwest Pacific sprightly, diverting, and excellent entertainment. The whole book crackles with the innocent deviltry of acorns hitting the roof-tops.” - Saturday Review of Literature “For all the allegedly gloomy moments, The Egg and I is an astoundingly light-hearted book. The MacDonalds, one gathers, had both youth and gumption on their side, to say nothing of an abounding humor that bounced them over the direst crises. - New York Times “I first read Betty MacDonald’s  The Egg and I  in 1946, on my return to England after the war, and it made me so homesick for the USA that I cried. I read it again around 1950, and laughed myself silly. Re-reading it now, I not only think it’s a work of real comic genius, but strangely touching as well. . . . It remains what it always was, a wonderful, funny, warm, honest book, and, to use a much over-used word, a classic.” - Michael Korda, author of Country Matters and Ike When Betty MacDonald married a marine and moved to a small chicken farm on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State, she was largely unprepared for the rigors of life in the wild. With no running water, no electricity, a house in need of constant repair, and days that ran from four in the morning to nine at night, the MacDonalds had barely a moment to put their feet up and relax. And then came the children. Yet through every trial and pitfall—through chaos and catastrophe—this indomitable family somehow, mercifully, never lost its sense of humor. A beloved literary treasure for more than half a century, Betty MacDonald's The Egg and I is a heartwarming and uproarious account of adventure and survival on an American frontier. A longtime resident of Washington State, Betty MacDonald (1908–58) authored four humorous, autobiographical bestsellers and several children's books, including the popular Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books. The Egg and I By Betty MacDonald Harper Paperbacks Copyright © 1987 Betty MacDonald All right reserved. ISBN: 978-0-06-091428-8 Chapter One And I'll Be Happy Along with teaching us that lamb must be cooked with garlic and that a lady never scratches her head or spits, my mother taught my sisters and me that it is a wife's bounden duty to see that her husband is happy in his work. "First make sure that your husband is doing the kind of work he enjoys and is best fitted for and then cheerfully accept whatever it entails. If you marry a doctor, don't whine because he doesn't keep the hours of a shoe clerk, and by the same token if you marry a shoe clerk, don't complain because he doesn't make as much money as a doctor. Be satisfied that he works regular hours," Mother told us. According to Mother, if your husband wants to give up the banking business and polish agates for a living, let him. Help him with his agate polishing. Learn to know and to love agates (and incidentally to eat them). "It is depressing enough for a man to know that he has to work the rest of his life without the added burden of knowing that it will be work he hates. Too many potentially great men are eating their hearts out in dull jobs because of selfish wives." And Mother had examples too. There was the Fuller Brush man who came to our house once a month and told Mother how deliriously happy he used to be raising Siberian wolves and playing the violin with a symphony orchestra until he ran afoul of and married Myrtle. The man in the A & P vegetable department who was lilting through life as a veterinary surgeon until he married a woman who hated animals but loved vegetables. And the numerous mining men Mother and Daddy knew who were held down to uninspiring company jobs by wives who wouldn't face the financial insecurity of their husbands going into business for themselves. "Boy," we said, "when we get married, our husbands will do exactly as they please," an