I love chicken.

I know what you're thinking. My list of loves is becoming quite lengthy (and, after that sentence, perhaps I should add alliteration), but I simply can't help it.

Of course, chicken isn't going to be near the top. The upper echelons are home to David, Mike Rowe, the smell of rain on a summer night, dirty emails from my mom (yes - the General forwards those emails that you know you're not supposed to laugh at but do anyway) and letters from Grandma. I mean, honestly (and those of you that have lived with me or are related to me know the answer to this) - how could chicken ever surpass a letter from Grandma Shirley?

"Hey kid. How's Nebraska? Watching any basketball? Boy, I sure hope those Illini win their next game. We got lots of rain this week. Grandpa's leg is feeling better. We're going to Iowa for that horse sale next weekend. What kind of pans do you use when you cook?"

Notice, there are no paragraph breaks. But, back to chicken. I grew up on a farm, and have always had an appreciation for production agriculture and the agriculture industry in general. But, I grew up with horses and dairy cattle, so most would think my favor would lean toward milk. Don't get me wrong, milk is wonderful. But, somewhere on my list between comfy underwear that maintain elastic instead of sagging and a worn out pair of square-toed boots, chicken has found a place on my love list - and for a couple of very good reasons.

First and foremost, David and I aren't exactly rich, so chicken has become a staple of our diets - mostly because we can only afford to look at steaks at the grocery store. But, that's okay because you can do anything with chicken. Think back to Bubba's explanation of shrimp in Forrest Gump and you can pretty much do everything to chicken that he lists when describing his love for shrimp ("Forrest, have you ever been on a shrimp boat?" "No, but I've been on a really, really big boat..." Sorry. Had to.). "You can bake it, broil it, boil it, saute it, barbecue it..."

Second, but equally as important, chickens produce eggs. And, as I told my husband this evening, I sure am glad they do because if we didn't have eggs, I wouldn't have anything to feed him. David loves breakfast - most often for supper - and eggs are always a staple of breakfast/supper. Not to mention they come in handy around Easter time when it's time to hard-boil three dozen eggs and hide them around the yard. Perhaps you can now understand my love for chickens.

In order to keep things even, though, I must add a couple of items to my "I don't really love these things" list.

Right now, these things would be the door frame to our bathroom and my knee. And yes, those things are somewhat of a joint item right now. All you need to know is that my knee, courtesy of the the door frame, is swollen up like a balloon and this means that I have not been able to get my normal two-mile-run-a-day in. This I do not love.

David can hear me typing in here and just wondered aloud, "How much can you really write about chicken?" I can't think of much more, so I suppose he's right. But remember, when you go to sleep tonight...

...thank God for chickens. And, ask him to make my knee feel better and to keep the bathroom door frame from attacking it again....