Life's a Stitch

Chicks on Hormones, no, not the name of my monthly S&B group, although we would qualify for that description. We’re Chicks With Sticks. Chicks on hormones came up in conversation with whom else other than the resident 14 year old boy. He had seen a recipe for quail and thought they were neat, dubbing them personal chickens. I told him about Rock Cornish Game Hens, he was interested, and that’s what I’m cooking tonight. He wondered if they were oversized chicks treated with hormones or full grown mini-hens. The correct answer: hens.

The last time I had game hen produces a vivid memory of my first job out of graduate school – in a methadone and public health clinic (believe me, I have plenty of stories from that six year stint; the very young Catholic white chick gets a job in the only methadone clinic between Kansas City and Canada, and Denver and DesMoines). One year for our Christmas party we collected ten crock pots and cooked 20 game hens for dinner. What a sight that was – ten crock pots distributed through out the boss’s house. It smelled heavenly. Looking back, though, that job was a positive experience – many life lessons learned early, a close knit staff, and stories to last a lifetime. I knit my first sweater while working there. It was a long sweater jacket made from burgundy coloured variegated Wintuck. It lasted forever and I wish I still had it. If it’s in a landfill somewhere I’m sure it hasn’t yet begun to biodegrade. And that is the total knitting content of this post.