chicken salad

Necessity assisted me in mothering a new chicken salad recipe this past week, while Todd was away. Not a fan of chicken salad, at lunchtime one day, I realized I had leftover chicken breasts that I had sauteed in garlic and served over salad greens the night prior. Anyway, I remembered what my sister has told me over the last couple years- that I have cooking qi- and I pulled out a wizzbang of a hit! Well... for chicken salad.

My dog, Violet, likes it too.

I made the chicken salad again today with what was left of the chicken breasts. Chicken, chopped onion, grated carrots (OUCH! knicked my knuckle!), dried cranberries, and light mayo. Abi had finished her bowl of noodle soup. Braeden was sleeping in his swing (the lazy bum).

I like to sit on the floor sometimes. It helps me feel grounded. With no one to join me at the table, I plopped down on the fraying throw rug by my kitchen sink. The clever Violet took her spot patiently by my side. I looked into her darling little eyes. Noted how innocent she was. For some reason, my mind flashed back to a night I spent at Palm Beach Atlantic College, when a girl, then my room mate, worked very hard to search her bible to convince me that animals do not go to heaven. No animals in heaven? How can that be heaven? I looked at Violet, considering that she might not see a heaven. With a virtual smile on her face, I think she reminded me of the classic truth all little children know: All Dogs Go To Heaven.

I gave her a pet under the neck, knowing if I go to any kind of heaven, so will she. I followed the pet with a piece of chicken from my chicken salad. Lick, lick, lick, gobble. I gave her another piece of chicken. Less licks, more gobble. I noticed that knick on my knuckle had bled across my finger. I offered the bloody finger to Violet. She sniffed. Hey, aren't dogs supposed to lick our wounds? Isn't their saliva said to contain antibacterial agents? I told her so. Instructed her on her responsibility. She sniffed again. Looked away. I rinsed my finger at the sink.

So, I can say at least this for my chicken salad. It's apparently better than the prospect of consuming human blood.