Just a Little Chicken Housekeeping UPDATED

Hi World,

Where the hell have you been???

Just kidding.  I would explain my absence but it is an old story with no plot, no scary music, and no point (but plenty of excuses).  So I won't bore you.

I have some housekeeping to catch up with.  Thank you Dee at Redheaded Step Child for this nice award:

All you people out there that thought Chicken was not very sweet, HAH, so  there.    Thank you, Dee, for seeing the sweet side of me.

I have to post something about me you don't know. 

When I was in second grade my favorite outfit was a purple knit pantsuit with a fake belt knitted into the middle.  I looked like a little elf in it except an elf that wore purple knit not green cotton, which is probably what Santa's elves wear, don't you think?  I'd show you a picture but I am not good about saving pictures and scanning them.  Also, if I did that, it might lead to future embarrassing school pictures being scanned and posted because I have a semi addictive personality.  You are just going to have to take my word for it when I warn that you do not want to see my sixth grade class picture with my new shag haircut, greasy hair, and stunning Mexican-inspired bric-brac tomato red dress.  From there it is just a short leap to Chicken in her band costume which included a furry hat much like the Queen's guards wear.  Again.  Stunning.

Next, I have to give it away.  I'm giving it to Girl Next Door, Life as Lindsey, Musical Musings/Stolen Sentiments, Ms. Morgan and Lucky Punk because they are all sweet, sweet, sweet and fabulous. 

Just like me.  Shutup.  You know I am. 

Next, I want to thank Amanda at Brilliant Sulk and Ravenscroft.  I entered her story-telling contest to win some bee-yoot-i-ful wine glasses and I won, I won.  Is this a good day or what?  If you want to read my story and also read Amanda's sharp, witty and funny blog, follow her link and go to the comments section of this post. For those of you familiar with Sam the dog, she makes a reappearance in the story. 

Here's a little bit of alphabet catch up.

"N" is for narcissist.  I often joke about being a narcissist. The other day I spent a self indulgent half hour wandering around Borders and I came across this book on the bargain rack for $3.99 called, "Will I Ever Be Good Enough, Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers", and I bought it as a joke for my daughter.  But then I thought, better read it first because, you know, why give her any future ammunition.

 

MISTAKE.  I'm very conflicted now.  Am I the daughter of a narcissist or a narcissistic mother?  I can't decide.  I only know that this book is probably about me, just like that song, somehow. 

"O" is for Ollie.  Don't you love that name?  If I ever have a cat, or maybe a cute little hamster, I'm naming him Ollie.

"P" is for Pirahna and that reminds me of Martin Strel , who swam the Amazon River (not to mention a bunch of other rivers) in order to bring attention to the importance of clean water and rainforests.  Y'all, the Amazon is like 2300 miles or something like that. And it is filled with these:

   

Just kidding about that last one.  She lives at my house. 

I hear Martin drinks a lot of wine. So does Chicken.  That is where the similarities end.  He uses his special brand of crazy to draw attention to world issues.  Chicken uses hers to amuse herself.  Big difference.  Martin, We here at Chicken Central salute you.  This bud is for you.  In Martin's honor I have decided to start my very own award.  I am calling it the Crazy as Martin Strel award.  For all you crazy bloggers out there.  Coming soon.

"Q" is for Queen.  Who is your favorite Queen and why?   Mine is Elton John.  He wrote that lovely Candle in the Wind song for Marilyn Monroe and then when Princess Di died, I remember thinking, oh, he will probably write a song for her now and he totally did.  He must have been short of time though, because didn't he just change the words to Marilyn's song?  I wonder how PD would have felt about that.  She was probably fine with it.  She was probably a narcissist's daughter rather than a narcissist mum, after all.  Then again, she didn't have any daughters so how would we really know? 

I know, you are all like what the hell is she talking about?  You'll just have to go to Borders and buy the book for $3.99.  It's a total bargain, I promise. 

I was serious about the Queen question.  Let me know. K?

I forgot one final item on my list.  Elly Lou, from BugginWord, who I thought was my cousin leaving a comment until I saw her on another blog and realized she had a blog and my cousin doesn't and so I read it, well, long story, but anyway great blog AND when she commented, apparently alerted to my peanut envy, she left me this link.  Don't open it at work.  But it is so funny.  Peanut envy is gone now:-)  http://nortygordytherudeone.blogspot.com/2008/07/willy-wigs.html

Ta ta,

Chicken out

(I don't have time to spell check because I'm getting the glaring "get off the computer" eyeballs from someone who may or may not be but probably is BigB.  You're going to have to give me a pass on spelling tonight)

L is for Letter and M is for Mom UPDATED

Hi World,

I've been thinking how rare it is to get an actual letter in the mail.  Now that we have the internet and facebook, no one writes letters anymore, and that's too bad. 

I've decided to spend my last couple days of vacation dropping some notes to some deserving individuals.

Dear Ivory Soap:

Can soap get dirty?  Like if you are in a public shower at the gym, and you drop your washcloth on the floor obviously you are not going to pick it up and wash your face with it because, gross, cooties from the 37 people who showered before you are obviously all OVER that cloth, but if you drop the soap is it the same thing?  Or should you just rinse it off and consider it clean again?  I really need to know this.

Yours in Cleanliness,
Chicken


Dear God:

Thank you for weakening my eyesight so that I can no longer see the deep wrinkles developing around my eyes and nose.  You are a wise and benevolent God. 

In piety,
Chicken


Dear Colonel Saunders:

I am writing to let you know that I have almost mentally recovered from the trauma of nearly being coated in 11 secret spices and deep fried back in 1986.  You really are a sick bastard, you know that? And your friend, Purdue, also.  Hell is reserving a special spot for the likes of you two sickos. 

Revenge will be mine,
Chicken

Dear GG,


Happy Library Workers week. I hope they did something special for you like give you a t-shirt or a coffee mug or something. I think a t-shirt that says "Librarians do it Quietly" would be very becoming.

XOXO
Chick

Dear  New Boss:

One thing that you do not yet know about me is that I eat cheese and crackers every single day while sitting at my desk and it is seriously annoying to anyone sitting within 10 yards of me.  It would be best if I had my own office.  I like the one at the end with the big window.  I know that is your office.  But I've noticed you do not eat cheese and crackers or any other annoying things, so perhaps a different arrangement would work better for everyone involved.

In the spirit of proactiveness,
Chicken


Dear Prince:

That symbol idea was really stupid.  Seriously, a symbol that has no pronunciation for a name?  What the hell were you thinking?

In disbelief,
Chicken


Dear BigB:

I know it looks as though I haven't done a thing all day.  The house is a mess, there's no dinner on the table, and there's a cheese rind and sleeve of crackers in the living room where we mutually agreed I would never eat again.  What you don't realize is that I had to spend the day hunkering down on the couch because the census workers were all out in the neighborhood and if I had been up and moving around working and stuff, they totally would have seen me and been all up in my grill about how you haven't sent in the census survey yet. 

Irresponsibly yours,
Chicken

Dear Mark Knopfler,

I'm coming to see you play and I am a big, big fan.  Did you know I also play the guitar?  I would be happy to do a number with you if you think it would be entertaining to your audience. Here's my cell number (401) 555-1234.  Text me. 

XO
Chicken

Dear Professor D:

Thank you for teaching me that the possessive form of it has no apostrophe.  You did me a solid. 
Chicken

Dear Emily Dickinson:

Hello.  I am finally getting back to you.  I hope you are doing well and are getting out once in awhile. 
Love,
The World

Dear Littleb,

I think you are a very smart and progressive little boy to want to pee standing up, like the big boys.  Just remember when you do it that you have to AIM littleb.  Because Golden Showers are not things that nice little boys give. 
Love,
Momma

Dear R,

When I said, "Do you want to spend the day together on Thursday" and you said "Yes" and I said, "OK, I'll call you", I meant this Thursday, as in today, as in why aren't you home?  Not some arbitrary, vague Thursday in the distant future when the planets that occupy your universe might be in alignment. Lunch tomorrow?
Love,
Mom

K is for Canape...

Sort of....

Hi World,

You'll be happy to know I'm over my penis envy for the time being. Every once in awhile it rears its ugly head, and I just have to talk about it, ju know? 

Go ahead, laugh.  You know you want to. 

And now we're moving, we're moving, we're walking....

So you know I'm on vacation right now and I have had some time on my hands.  I've been enjoying myself immensely.  In addition to planting myself on the couch to watch the whole first season of True Blood and sometimes drinking beer in the middle of the day, I've also gotten in the habit of stopping by the market after dropping littleb at pre-school. 

I've always wanted to be that French girl.  You know.  The one with the striped nautical shirt with the bateau neckline and the white pedal pushers?  The one on the bike?  The bike with the basket on the front?  The basket that contains a loaf of French bread and a bouquet of fresh flowers?  Except I can never be that French girl because, Monsieur, Madames, pardonnez, mais oui, my accent sucks.  AND I don't own a bike AND bateau necklines and horizontal stripes are not a good look on me. But, just for these two weeks, I thought to myself, I can be a modified French girl and wear my stretchy blue yoga pants to the Whole Foods and buy good things to eat. 

One day last week, I bought a Bosc Pear, a small loaf of french bread, and a nice blue cheese recommended by the cheese person to go with the pear.  For two days, I ate that for lunch.  It was great.  The memory of that meal must have left a deep imprint because I woke up this morning and had an epiphany. 

I know.  Epiphany almost sounds like penis envy, doesn't it?  But we are not talking about that today, so. Focus.

Anyway, I had an epiphany, based on the pear/cheese/bread meal, and this is what it was:

CHICKEN'S 3AM EPIPHANY:  If you have cheese, bread and fruit, you have all the makings for beautiful canapes right at your fingertips.  Just in case the President or First Lady should drop by. Or the Queen or the Prime Minister or Prince or Lady Gaga.  (If it is Prince, he's not going to eat your beautiful Canapes though, so don't even bother.  I'm sure his bodyguard will supply his meals.  His bodyguard probably is his meal. I wish he would just eat Lady Gaga.)

To prove my theory, I went back to Whole Foods this morning and purchased the following fruits:

Bosc Pear
Green Apple
Strawberries
Raspberries

A small wedge of each of the following cheeses:

St. Andre (a triple cream brie)
St Agur (a french blue)
Australian Cheddar
Humboldt Fog (a California artisanal goat cheese)

And the following "bread" bases:

Pizza dough
French bread
Phyllo dough

I started with the pizza dough.  I rolled and cut out some very small rounds and sprinkled them with various toppings.  On the first, I used cinammon and sugar.  On the others I tried some herbs de provence, sea salt, and garlic salt.  I fried them in a bit of olive oil.  I spread some of the brie in the middle of the cinnamon/sugar piece and pinned it together, like a mini cannoli, with a raspberry on top.  The others had cooled too quickly to follow the same idea, so I topped them with the other cheeses and fruits.  My favorite combination was the herbs de provence round, split in half, filled with the humboldt fog, and topped with a strawberry. This is what the pizza dough canapes looked like:

If I did these again, I would either make the rounds a bit smaller to provide just a mouthful, or shape them quickly into the cannoli right after frying.

Next I worked with the French bread.  My favorite was a tiny grilled cheddar and apple sandwich.  I also did an inside out canape, which was fun and tasty, by hollowing a strawberry and  filling it with french bread and brie.  It was great as a finger food  Here are the french bread photos:  

Finally, I worked a little with the phyllo dough.  If you use these, you probably just want to buy the premade phyllo cups.  The result is not worth the extra work of making your own.  The blue cheese and pear combo was my favorite in this series. 

And there you have today's great adventure.  Now I need to go clean it up because my entire kitchen pretty much looks like this:

By the way, I was wearing the loincloth when I made these.  Just kidding. 

One more thing before you race off to the next blog.  Yes, I see you Ms. Bloggy Ho Twitchy Finger. 

I know I am forever telling you guys about my rockstar fantasy, but last night we realized  it runs through the bloodlines:

He just  may turn out to be my greatest hope of ever meeting Bruce.  He's getting a set of drums for his birthday.  Not only does he have raw talent, he's got a great stage look. 

Take care,

Chicken out