Chicken Salad

     Okay, so I'm in the kitchen.  

     No, this isn't one of those blogs about my culinary madness of trying out a new recipe.  A new recipe that requires that I use every freaking bowl, measuring cup and utensil in my kitchen.  No, I'm making chicken salad.  

     I make a mean chicken salad.  It's not a salad salad, that has ingredients with lettuce or some cousin of lettuce.  It's chicken salad that needs to be piled high, between two pieces of bread and it always needs to have a side of some kind of crunchy not-so-good-for-you chip.

     As I'm cutting up last night's chicken, I'm thinking about chicken salad.  It seems to be a warm weather food.  I wonder why that is.  It's full of chicken, mayo, eggs....all the ingredients that can make for some nasty side effects of food poisoning, if left out too long in the heat.  I try not to think about that.

     I think about the first time I made chicken salad.  I was in 4-H and made it for a competition.  Mother instructed me while I mixed the ingredients.  She could slice and chop an egg in her hand like it was magic.  I've yet to this day to master her technique.  I used to have one of those fancy eggs slicers that look like a small oval guitar with steel strings.  A word of advice, do not try to slice a potato with one of those, they were made strictly for eggs.  Hence the reason for why I used to have one.  Anyway, I make my chicken salad and am anxious for the judges to judge.  They were not impressed.  They said it was too chunky.  That must have been about the time I needed a tee-shirt that read 'Does not take constructive criticism well' , because that was my last 4-H competition.  Mother agreed that she thought my chicken salad was awesome.  That's what moms do.  I'm thinking now I was just born in the wrong era, chunky is the new pate'.

     It's late.  Later than most normal people's eating hour.  We always eat late.  I guess that is because we like to sit and talk about the days events for an hour or so, or longer.  It's something we have always done and  it's probably too late to change that habit.

     So, I'm thinking about chicken salad again.  Giving some serious thought to downsizing, I'm wondering if following the sun would mean eating chicken salad anytime of the year.  I think that sounds like a grand plan.  Chicken salad and 20 inches of snow just don't go hand in hand.

     I'm adding the ingredients.  Some garlic powder, salt, pepper.  I go to the refrigerator to get the secret ingredient, hot dog relish. Seriously, if you use pickle relish in your chicken salad, try replacing it with hot dog relish.  You will not be disappointed.

     I'm chopping up a small onion.  Into tiny little pieces.  My husband, who has gone to shower while I'm making chicken salad, comes into the kitchen and asks, "Where did I get these shorts?"

     I turn to look, thinking it odd that he has to ask something so mundane.  The chicken salad leaves my mind in an instant.  He's standing there in a pair of short shorts.  I'm talking maybe a 2 inch inseam.

      They're my shorts.  Not only are they my shorts, they are my 20 pounds ago shorts.  I know he did not get them from my side of the closet, because he doesn't know there is a 'my' side of the closet.  I obviously was folding laundry when the light bulb above the washer and dryer was out and put them in his basket, by mistake.  

     Here he is, 60 something, in cute elastic band short shorts.  It's quite a visual.  I'm hysterical, totally forgetting about chicken salad.
He agrees that he was sure they were not his, but hey, they were on his side of the closet.  He grins and leaves the kitchen.  The next time I see him, he has found his own shorts.  Actually, I thought he looked cute in the short shorts.  He sometimes doesn't get my sense of humor.

     The chicken salad is done and yes, it's very tasty.  Perhaps I will fold laundry in the dark more often.