I’m not big into raking. I will do it when necessary, though, and I found it necessary last week. And as usual, I contracted Raker’s Thumb. Yes, I completely made that term up just now. Raker’s Thumb — a term soon to appear in medical dictionaries worldwide, I am confident — strikes the flap of…
I had the “Impossible Burger” at yet another area fast food restaurant that will not pay me to mention their name. (What’s up with that?) Supposedly these burgers are so good that you will think it is “impossible” that they are meatless. And I have to say, they are as good as advertised. I took a bite of the patty by itself, and I ate the entire burger. It was by no means the best burger I’ve ever had (pretty dry), but I did not feel like I was eating “healthy.”
And that’s a good thing, because I wasn’t.
Some of you are old enough to remember when a fried chicken dinner required not only a frying pan but also either kitchen shears or a big knife. That’s right, back in our day chickens were purchased in grocery stores, not drive-thru windows. And they looked pretty much like actual chickens, just without feathers, heads and feet.
When my mom served us fried chicken, she insisted on taking the back. That’s a piece of chicken the Colonel doesn’t serve, of course. But it’s there, right there with breasts, thighs and drumsticks. I always thought she was “taking one for the team,” as mothers often do — leaving the choice pieces for the rest of us. Now I’m starting to wonder if Mom was playing us.
