happy chatter

So much for feeling boxed in; squirreling around in a tiny corner of routine; mindlessly moving from one task to the next... the last two weeks have seen me tearing up the boundaries of that oh-so-restrictive comfort zone!

I mean, for goodness sake, I ate chicken feet - and survived it! How more daring can it get?! That being said, never again will I look at those little chickies in our back yard in quite the same way. As I watch them scratching and pecking in the dirt I can't help recalling gnawing on the knuckles of their nameless chicken friends. Heartless. Cruel. Callous. Not that they tasted that great - no matter that the chef told us they were washed 500 times. (Just not enough meat on the bones for my liking)

Eating chicken feet pales into insignificance however in the light of a whole afternoon spent sitting at the feet of the television, gazing adoringly at football stars as they kicked a ball from one end of the field to another. AFL grand final day and Frank and I were invited to my first ever grand final party, complete with a fancy schmancy home entertainment system big screen, beer, chips and saveloys (apparently the saveloys are an AFL final tradition... beats me why!).

To get into the spirit of things I cooked a cake and decorated it in the colours of the team I hoped (but doubted) would win, replete with yellow and brown icing and squares of yellow and brown cake inside. (In truth it looked a bit sad and saggy but hey, I tried to get into the spirit of things)

Labels: chickens, cooking, football