One Crazy Little Chick

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When she heard that baby chicks could be hatched from incubated chicken eggs, it seemed like a simple enough procedure to find out if It was true.

Since her new winter boots always kept her feet nice and warm, she decided they would no doubt make perfectly excellent chicken hatchers.

She carefully snuck two eggs from the fridge, placed one in the snug toe of each boot, and promptly forgot about them for the duration of the long wait which came next.

She remembered well enough after she was asked to put her coat and boots on to go outside,  responding to the request by wailing and screaming at the top of her lungs about broken eggs and squished baby chickens and life being generally just dreadfully unfair.

Now, although she doesn’t know for sure if that was the first time her confused and exasperated mother threw up her hands and demanded to know what in the world was the matter with her, she can tell you with a great deal of certainty that it definitely wasn’t the last.

 

Five Sentence Fiction – Confusion

Quiche or Something Like It

Some days you just have to write about Quiche, especially on those days when you threw some together and it turned out on the plus side of edible.

I cooked some bacon until it was dark and crisp. Did I mention in any of my Greece-capades that there was not one breakfast in any of the places we stayed where the bacon was cooked any more than about half way? To me it looked as if they’d warmed it up until the fat melted and then thrown it in a heat tray in a limp and grease sodden mess. Yuck.

Anyway, I cooked the hell out of some bacon, cooled it on a paper towel and crumbled it up in anticipation of adding it to an omelette. And then suddenly an omelette sounded boring. So I chopped up some red onion, red pepper and green pepper, and sautéed it with a zip lock bag full of frozen spinach which usually ends up in my daily smoothie. Smoothies can get boring too.

Next I beat the hell out of six eggs. I don’t love cooking unless I’m cooking the hell out of things. I also find recipes and the way they’re written boring most of the time, unless they say weird and wonderful things like
– prepare the pan (apparently some pans don’t deal well with surprises)
– sit in the fridge for 30 minutes (this only works if you have a super sized fridge and you’re under 4 feet tall)
– season to taste (no really, you need to be more specific here for us taste impaired cooks and actually mention some spices and seasonings by name)

Anyway, buttered pie plate, beaten eggs, sautéed mixture, sprinkled with the crumbled bacon and shredded cheese (I’m sure it doesn’t matter what kind – pick something you like) into the oven at 350 for 30 minutes. Yes, I was pretty much making this up as I went along and hoping for the best. It’s not that I don’t like a Quiche with a pastry crust but those things aren’t good for you and way too much like work.

Voila!

Voila!

Extreme quiche close up.

Extreme quiche close up.

Notice that you are not seeing any of the complicated process leading to this result.  That’s because I don’t like to tempt fate by recording the steps which may lead to colossal failure.  Even with something as relatively simple as crustless Quiche.

I wonder if my cooking skills (or lack of confidence in them) can be blamed on my mother.  We blame our mothers for just about everything, so why not.  She was an excellent cook who could whip up an incredible table full of delicious food for a crowd with very little help.   It would take her longer to tell you how to do something than to just do it herself.  She was forever apologizing for the dishes she made not being better, although we couldn’t imagine how that would be possible.  She never measured anything exactly, using her measuring cups and spoons as guidelines only.  That’s why I don’t have many of her recipes.  The best ones  changed with the ingredients on hand and were never written down.  Leaving her daughters (well this one who never listened anyway) to wing it on their own.

This was really good hot out of the oven with some salsa on the side.  I’m hoping it will be really good cold too, because I may have gone a bit overboard with half a dozen eggs for one person.  Mom also always cooked with leftovers in mind.  Maybe I’m more like her than I know.

Boiled Eggs and Lettuce and Other Weird Information

I’ve seriously over-dosed on lettuce today!  Is that possible?  Does ones face turn green when that happens?  I’m afraid to look in a mirror.

There was extra spinach in my smoothie this morning because it’s on the verge of wilting and I wanted to get rid of it.  Then I used up all the already washed lettuce in the fridge, packing it into a lunch container with a few other salad type things and ate that at work this afternoon.

And when I came home from work, there was a caesar salad ready to be tossed and eaten, so guess what happened with that.  W has been making meals, and I am not going to discourage him.  I think I might try to get him to lighten up a little on the cocktails and wine though.  He already has drinks poured before I’m in the door, and while I certainly do appreciate it, and drink them down to avoid hurting his feelings, I think there’s a few too many calories involved in this practice.

There has been some serious discussion in our family about making a pilgrimage to Greece sometime next year, and riding up a mountain on a donkey.  If the donkey part of it is going to happen for me, I think shedding a few pounds is definitely necessary.  I would hate for my donkey to be the only one that doesn’t complete the journey.

So, less wine, more lettuce.  Some lovely Grecian donkey is going to thank me for this one fine day.

Also, on a completely different brain fart, FRESH EGGS WHEN THEY’RE BOILED ARE HARDER TO PEEL THAN EGGS THAT HAVE BEEN IN THE FRIDGE FOR A WEEK OR SO.  I looked this up, and my friend Laura is right.  Even though she did not grow up on a farm she knows what she’s talking about when it comes to egg boiling and peeling, unlike the person who tried to convince her the egg peeling thing was the other way around and that fresh eggs are more easily peeled.  Really.  Even someone like me who doesn’t care one way or the other knows that you don’t boil fresh eggs, you boil the old ones you’ve had hanging around in the fridge for so long you’re afraid they’ll go bad if you don’t do something with them very soon.

And once they’re boiled and peeled (try doing it under cold running water – that works for me) and mashed up with mayo into egg salad, you can make a sandwich and use up a bunch of old LETTUCE.

Sorry for all the shouting, but some things just beg to be emphasized.

Ooookay, this lettuce and alcohol diet could be the next big craze.  I’d get into anti-oxidants and electrons and free radicals and maybe even superoxide dismutase, catalase and peroxiredoxins, but I’m sorry I’ve had entirely too much wine and can’t even pronounce that shit right now.

W is loading the dishwasher and putting the leftover lettuce and wine in the fridge for tomorrow.  I feel like I’ve lost about five pounds just sitting here writing about it.

Never Say Die

Here we go again with the questions you never wanted to ask and the answers you never wanted to think about.  Come on, read it anyway.  Things you don’t like are usually good for you.

Have you ever wanted to build your own house?  What would it look like?  My mother always used to say there was an ideal house for every stage in your life.  On your own, newly married, with little kids, with teenagers, with an empty nest, retired, needing care.  But who wants to start over that many times?  Your needs are met and then they change.  So yes, I’ve wanted to build a house.  I love the look of an A-frame chalet with towering windows, a huge stone fireplace, cathedral ceiling and an open loft.

But – so many buts.  It would look rather silly in a city suburb, next to a mall.  Too many windows to clean, too many stairs to climb.  It was, and still is, a lovely dream.  I’ve designed it a hundred times in my mind, perfecting all the details.  Probably the reality could never live up to my aspirations. I’m not unhappy if it remains a castle in the air.

What’s your favourite way to cook eggs?  Broken, flipped, mutilated.  It might as well be my favourite, because that’s how they end up.

Do you think people can change?  Well of course they can.  The process starts with growing up.  For a lot of us, that period in our lives is very long and drawn out and we think we’ll never get to the end of it.  If you learn one new thing a day, it’s impossible to stay the same.  How great is that?  You need never be stuck with whoever you are right now.  You can just keep on getting better and better.  Promise yourself you’re not going to die until you’re perfect.  My gawd, think about it.  You could live forever.

Share a story about someone you admire.  It’s Mother’s Day.  I admired my mother, although I never told her that.  She would have been embarrassed and shrugged it off because conceit to her was a deadly sin.  Funny how the people who have every reason to be proud, generally aren’t, really.  Mother’s are a strange bunch.  Even when they’re doing a crappy job, they mean well.  Hug your mother today.

When you need creative inspiration, where do you go?  To sleep.  By the time I wake up I’m usually over it.

Do you support same sex marriage?  What a funny word – support.  Do same sex marriages, or opposite sex marriages for that matter, need my encouragement?  Does ANY marriage need me to be an advocate for it?  Go ahead and get married to whoever you want.  Make the choices and the promises that work for you and leave the rest of us out of it.  Because, guess what – it’s really none of our business.   People are people first, and sorted out into categories second.   Any loving relationship can be a beautiful thing.

If tatoos lasted for only one year, would you want one?  Are you kidding?  Go through all that pain and agony to have it fade away to nothing in a year?  There’s a reason why it’s done with sharp needles – to ensure that you’re damned serious about it and willing to suffer for it and live with it forever.  Sort of like marriage in a way.  As for me, just give me one of those painless stick on ones that disappears after a couple of showers and I’m good to go.

Useful Advice

Over breakfast I asked a couple of four-year-old chicken farmers for some chicken advice.

First off they told me some awesome chicken names; Blastoff, Darth Vader, Hulk, Alien, Dragon, Snake and Ninja were Corey’s top choices. Maddy was much more thoughtful and came up with Blackie, Frog, Balloon, Reindeer and Fox. They assured me that chickens would not get confused having these names.

If you want to raise chickens there’s two things you need to remember. Don’t let them bite your fingers, and don’t ever put eggs in your pockets.

Without a doubt, that’s the most useful advice I’ve received so far today.

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