Chicken Little

I'm already planning meals for the weekend with some make believe idea that it will be another three dayer and not a quick flash in the pants two day affair as usual. And my thinking is all tied up around those chickens I saw on Sunday with their naked feet extending through the open end of a plastic bound bag and their weight proudly printed across their buxomed chests, well, except for the two pound guinea looking chick on the bottom, the only one I had enough cash in my pocket to buy. But I'm saving up for a hussy on Sunday to rack in the oven with rosemary and thyme from my yard if there is any left after a week of extra kids, a mini day care from what I understand, happening in our shared back yard.

And I have my mouth watering for more red and rainbow kale sauteed with the court jester colored onions to put beside my once happy range roaming poultry. I want more strawberries and Bodega Bay made cheese, cherries and butter lettuce thick as a winter cabbage. For now though I'm at my desk, eatting rice cakes from rice grown in Sacramento with almond butter smothered on top from a ranch in Manteca and saving my dollars for the farmers, for apricots, avocados and the last long asparagus of spring.

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