It’s Tuesday, but it’s Fry-day

This happens every summer. The temperature gets stuck in the upper 90s. It’s hot when you wake up in the morning. It’s still hot when you go to bed at night.

And someone down at the newspaper office will have the brilliant, though somewhat unoriginal, idea of attempting to prove how hot it is by going out and frying an egg on the sidewalk.

We usually reserve such stunts for slow news days. Using that criteria, today hardly qualifies. It’s primary election day.

But today's high is expected to be 98, with a heat index of 103 to 107. And I’ve never fried an egg for a blog, so this is new territory.

I’m going to wait until that asphalt gets good and hot, then head out to make breakfast in the parking lot.

Starting at noon, I will begin having periodic updates on the egg. A play-by-play with photographs to keep you entertained.

So check back throughout the day, and we’ll fry this egg together.

11:17 a.m. -- The temperature in Macon is 93 degrees right now. But, out in the parking lot, my guess is this concrete and asphalt is at least 110 degrees. The hot plate is almost ready for cooking.

12:05 p.m. -- I'm ready to head out into the blistering afternoon. But, hey, if you can't stand the heat, get out the chicken. My editors think it won't take any longer than 20 minutes to a half hour to fry the egg, so I had better stay nearby.

12:22 p.m. -- Soup's on!!!

12:29 p.m. -- Some folks use vegetable oil. Some use canola oil. That dark spot you see in the center is motor oil.

12:36 p.m. -- This is the true definition of sunny side up.

12:41 p.m. -- The sun just went behind a cloud, and the temperatured dipped from 95 to 94. Egg is starting to make a little progress.

12:44 p.m. -- Sun's back out. I'm going inside for an air-conditioning break.

12:50 p.m. -- I just counted 173 steps from my office to my "kitchen.'' I wonder if Emeril started out this way.

1:03 p.m. -- Hey, where did that solar eclipse come from? (Just kidding.)

1:22 p.m. -- OK, it has been one hour. Yolk has hardened but still waiting for some egg white to show a little leg. Trying not to get too impatient. A watched parking lot never boils.

1:29 p.m. -- Wow! I just passed 200 hits on the blog! Some of you are really interested in this eggs-periment. I feel a bit like Charles Reid does in the morning doing his "live-eye" traffic reports for WMAZ-TV.

1:50 p.m. -- Right about now, my father is probably thinking: "Four years of college tuition to one of the top journalism schools in the country for this??!!??"

2:02 p.m. -- The heat is starting to make me hallucinate. I'm visualizing a revised scene from Forrest Gump, with Bubba Blue at his side: "You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sautee it, There's, um, egg kabobs, egg creole, egg gumbo, pan fried, deep fried, stir fried. There's pineapple egg and lemon egg, coconut egg, pepper egg, egg soup, egg stew, egg salad, egg and potatoes, egg burger, egg sandwich. That's, that's about it.''

2:22 p.m. -- It has been two hours. The temperature is 94 degrees and the heat index is 427 degrees. Don't expect to see a photograph of my egg in Bon Appetit magazine. The yolk has broken on the east side and has started to run. My egg looks like an ice cream cone. I'm ready to take it up. Even if it's not done, I'm cooked. I carefully scraped it off the sidewalk with two plastic forks.

2:46 p.m. -- Well, I feel like I've made my contribution to society today. A nice person has posted a comment on the blog. They said they were at the office and kinda bored and were always wondering if an egg could be fried on the sidewalk. Glad I could provide some entertainment.

2:58 p.m. -- Another editor comes by and tells me about a guy in Phoenix who cooked a frozen pizza on the hood of his car. Hmmmmmm. For my next trick. ...

3:01 p.m. -- I wonder if Kroger has DiGiorno on sale this week?