For the past month or so our friends and family have been generously providing us with dinner. It’s awesome. Before David was born I thought making dinner for a family was just a nice thing to do. Now I know how incredible it is.
We’ve gotten a few rotisserie chickens, and can I just say: every time I see one of these sitting on my counter, I think of my mom.
Why? You ask.
Well, because my mom has a lot of different sides.
She’s wonderful and caring, beautiful and funny.
She’s also a party on the dance floor, has impeccable fashion sense, and can hula hoop with the best of them.
And just look at this picture of her before trick-or-treating last Halloween. Don’t you just wanna hang out with her?
But one side of my mom you might not know: she can clean a chicken carcass like a hyena.
(And whenever I think about it, I can’t help but picture my brother nodding and laughing in agreement.)
My mom can easily gnaw 8 lbs of meat out of a 4 lb bird.
Growing up, I vividly remember taking my plate to the trash and my mom intercepting the bones, “are you done with those?”
So you’ll understand why I feel wasteful, if not nostalgic when I look at the remains of a chicken dinner.