Transition, the mark and process of change. Change, it's the only constant.
I was going to write about my recent job change (after 15 years working for Whole Foods in Finance, I left to work for Vitanica, an amazing vitamin/supplement company that has rather helped save my life at least once), and tell you about that transition, now that I'm almost 3 months into the new gig. I will say, it has been a welcome downshift in my life.
I was going to write about my transition through menopause over the past few years. Yes, at 42 years young, the age my mother had us, we are, the twin and I, post menopausal. It is a young age for a woman to be in the third and final phase of womanhood, and what a transition that has been!
Instead, I'm going to write about Tuesdays; and CHICKEN?! Tuesdays are long ones of late, with dance class in the morning, a half day at work and rehearsals until 9:30 at night, I often don't strive to accomplish too much in the couple of hours between work and rehearsal. Yesterday, I was determined to cook the salted chicken I had dry ageing in the fridge since Saturday; and so I did. I rubbed it with butter, stuffed its cavity with a few sprigs of rosemary and tarragon from the yard, poured a jar of house broth over it and roasted that bird. Then I made a silly slo-mo video, posted below, and laughed myself silly.
For those of you familiar with Danny Kaye's narrated Grimm's Fairy Tales, the likes of which I grew up listening to as a child, ad nauseum, then you will know what I mean, when I say I particualry felt like Clever Gretel yesterday whilst roasting said chicken.
Let's Go Look at the CHICKEN?!
For my closest friends, they will find it particularly funny, as I cannot help but pronounce the word 'chicken' loudly and with a slightly lifted intonation at the end, like a very excited question. CHICKEN?! There's a story to that, and it involves my mother. Not in the way that would have you imagining me reclining on a therapist's couch, purging my childhood, or adulthood histories; rather, as an homage to mom, and her determination as well as the inspiration she has always provided. When mom had her stroke, vocabulary was something that she worked very hard, with dad's tutelage to regain. During a visit home, we were talking, and she was explaining something about chicken wire, and kept calling it 'kitchen' wire, but would catch herself, with a chuckle, and quietly correct herself, saying "chicken wire". As we kept talking about the subject, she kept misusing the word, saying "kitchen" instead of "chicken", correcting herself every time, laughing. Finally, she exclaimed, "the CHICKEN?! wire!", and we laughed together, commemorating the moment. To this day, I will always say the word 'CHICKEN?!" thusly. Thanks, momma.
Oh, yes - chicken wings really are best when they are just off the bird, fresh out of the oven, when the tips are crispy, the "knuckles" crunchy, and the meat falls off the bones. You better belive, I ate both wings, licking my buttery chops and fingers, on the way to rehearsal. So taste! Yes, TASTE! ;)
Until next time.....