Chicken Little

K saw me editing these photos and wanted to know if I had any good ones edited.

Good ones?

These are good ones.

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She meant photos like the one below. 

Posed and portrait looking. I have plenty of those. But the photos I really love are the silly ones. The ones that show K's personality.

Those are the good photos.

But to appease my {sort of} willing model, I will include a posed portrait photo.

Ta da.

A couple weeks ago, the Man decided to cook a chicken for dinner. He put it in the crock pot and let it cook most of the day. But he put it in frozen, right out of the freezer, and when he checked on it later in the afternoon he was not convinced it was going to be cooked through.

He called me at work. "I think I'm going to put the chicken in the oven. I want to make sure it's cooked.  But it doesn't look right. It looks kind of skinny and flat."

I wasn't sure what he was talking about but I agreed that cooked chicken was the way to go and confirmed that he should put it in the oven. 

He said goodbye, muttering something about throwing some potatoes and carrots in the pan. 

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I got home from work and the Man met me at the door. 

"There's something wrong with that chicken," he said. "It has no breast meat."

What? There has to be breast meat on the bird. What kind of chicken doesn't have breast meat?

He pulled the pan out of the oven and I looked at the chicken. He was right. There was no breast meat. Flat as a pancake. He took a fork and stabbed at it. Nothing. Just bones. We looked at it carefully, inspecting it closely while he kept stabbing at it, looking for some meat. 

As he was poking at it, we started speculating about what might have happened to it. I asked him if the wrapper indicated that it was an organic chicken. Maybe I bought one that had no growth hormones and therefore no enlarged breasts. Maybe normal chickens have very little breast meat and we've become accustomed to hormone injected birds.

After looking at it for a few minutes, we agreed that we could not eat it for dinner. There simply wasn't enough meat for everyone. The Man shut off the oven and said he would use it for chicken soup the next day. I told him that was a fantastic idea and we could eat leftovers for dinner instead.

As I was changing out of my work clothes, I heard him call my name. I walked into the kitchen and he said, "I figured out what was wrong with that chicken."

"It was upside down."

Seriously. 

We were looking at an upside down chicken and DID NOT KNOW IT.

Truly, I am out of the cooking loop. I can't even identify an upside down bird.

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I love this photo of E. She looks like a ballerina coming out of a twirl.