Speaking of Chicken

Today, I have the sincere pleasure of cooking a chicken. What, you don't think that sounds like fun? Well perhaps then I am old fashioned. I love cooking, it is definitely a passion. I learned to cook from my grampa, who loved to make family dinners and watch cooking shows. I considered for a time persuing some form of Epicurean education, but I'd rather the joy of cooking not be ruined by the limits of convention. You see, the way I cook is not by recipe or instruction. It is much more fun to just cook, to make it up as you go along. Granted, this can result in some very odd dishes, but they tend to be enjoyable nonetheless. A little of this, a little of that. I look forward to the day I can spend hours slaving away in the midst of a well-designed kitchen (an ergonomic triangle of stove, sink, and refrigerator makes things go quickly), perhaps with frilly pink (yes, I said pink) apron and matching girly shoes, and prepare a feast even the most skeptical gourmand can appreciate.

Don't be dissuaded by my dark persona, for I am most definitely a Girl. But the two can easily be combined. I will wear my apron and heals, yes, but the question remains: will I be wearing anything else?

But that day has yet to come, and my chicken today is being prepared in the warm comfort of clothing. On a side note, the week before last was hot and sunny, last week was rainy. Yesterday was humid, today is cold and wet. Such is Oregon in the Springtime. I have grown used to this, but it does frustrate me that my wardrobe has to jump from tank tops to sweaters in so short a time. But due to upcoming seasonal changes in wardrobe, I will soon have to post what became an annual topic in previous blog incarnations: my summer attire and the safe reception thereof. But then, I still have to finish my series of people I wished I'd fucked... Hmm.