i get my relationship with chicken from my mother.
watching jamie sue get down with a plate a bbq chicken is next to nothing.
(that's not true. dad, sister, and i once had to shield ourselves with lobster-bibs from my mother whom was furiously pounding crab with a little hammer at a crab-shack in the everglades. bitch. doesn't. mess.)
there's something just so comforting about it-- it may be the cup of fat per bird, hmmm.
in truth, i learned how to cook my signature, panty-dropping dish, roast chicken, from my x (spelling intentional). it's actually one of my favorite memories of him, and it brings about warm feelings every time i make one. i like that. :)
anyway, i have a chicken and potatoes roasting, just the way i was taught to do.
i'd like to say i'm cooking it for someone special, but i'm not. nor will i be anytime in the future.
i may be a bit broken, but i still know what i want/need out of a boyfriend, and a call/text a week is not that. he's a super-nice guy, and if he ever figures it the fuck out i'm not one to shut doors forever, but i'm not about to wait around for him to figure it out.
trust. ;)
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