Monday, January 17, 2011

Hot Wings, Chicken Mabel

How do you keep a pregnant woman happy in the dead of winter?

Just ask Matt. His solution? Home made chicken wings with hot sauce.

And yes. They were every bit as delicious as they look in this picture.

No. I don't know how he made it because all I could think about was eating them. Fast.

I did mumble a couple of "thank you's" mid-chew though. I was very grateful.


Mabel's phobias keep developing as the years pass.

Her new one?

Hiding under the table because she's petrified at the sound of frying grease.


I'm not sure whether she suspected we were going to dip her in hot oil, or that she might lose a patch of fur if she got popped by a rogue grease splatter.

Either way, she's a giant chicken.

And she could not be convinced to come out from under the table.

I was so serious about the task at hand (eating ferociously and doing my best imitation of the Cookie Monster), that I put on an apron to protect my clothing.

I dump everything on the belly these days.

Afterward I tried to thank the chef by taking his portrait.

He wasn't buying it.

So I gave him a big kiss instead.

Hot wings, Chicken Mabel.

It was a very good afternoon.