A few weeks ago hubby was at the Giant Flea Market, it's a local monthly weekend flea market where he goes and buys reading glasses by the case, yes by the case, twelve pairs at a time, several times a year, because we lose them so frequently, but that's a whole other blog entry.
But anyhoo, the last time he went he came home with a frozen chicken. Of course I'm going, "why would you buy a chicken at a flea market?" He went on to explain that it was a local guy who raises them, that it was free range, yadayadaya. So I baked it. O-M-G, it was an amazing bird, it tasted like chickens of my childhood, when they roamed free and ate as nature intended instead of living their lives on wire and being injected with hormones like the chicken we eat today.
So he called the guy a few weeks ago to get more chickens, and he was sold out, but he said he would contact him when they slaughtered more.
Fast forward to this week, the call came, LC's working today, so lucky me gets to meet the chicken man by the side of the road, near the University, to pick them up. So I haul a** to the highway, not too thrilled at the prospect of sitting there while all those college kids whiz by, I have the the M&M's in tow, and I'm talking to V on the cell to alleviate my boredom. Pretty soon chicken man and his wife pull up in a new Lexus, yeah, a Lexus, chickens apparently are a really lucrative business.
I get out of the car, his wife says, "these are really nice chickens, they're awfully heavy though, they weigh forty-six pounds." Forty six pounds, imagine that!!! FORTY SIX POUNDS, holy sh*t, that's a lot of chicken. They load em' up for me, they're fresh, not frozen, they gush profusely about how adorable the fur kids are, and how they used to have a Yorkie, I swear, I think the whole world has had a Yorkie at one time or another, and we're off for home.
The M&M's are scampering in the drive, I'm unloading all that frickin' chicken and trying to stuff them in an already full freezer, trust me it was not a fun job and the only thing that made it remotely possible was the fact that they were pliable so I could jam them all in there. It was such a tight fit I could barely close the door. And that was the freezer in the garage, the freezer in the house is full, too. It's not me that buys all this food, it's hubby, he buys in bulk, he always has. I've had many a comment about how our pantry looks like a grocery store, because he also comes home with cases of canned veggies and beans and numerous other "deals." Now he's on the hunt for a good buy on sweet potatoes so that he can buy a bushel of those!!!
He brings all this stuff in the house, and it's like, what are we going to do with it??? It's like he's a modern day hunter, bringing home his kill!!!
I also have a whole boneless pork loin in the refrigerator that he bought yesterday and I'm somehow going to have to fit it into one of the freezers. AND he bought twenty-five bags of Birdseye frozen Veggie Steamers this morning because they were such a good buy, so those also had to go into the already full freezer because it already had a ton of stuff in there from his earlier shopping trips. He threatened to throw away the bucket of frozen margaritas that Hooterville is so fond of, to make room, and I said, “Oh no you don't,” “ Hoot would absolutely kill you if you pitched her margs."
But you see what I mean about hoarding food? Sometimes he really does get carried away... No, let me rephrase that, he always gets carried away... And he had enough to eat as a child, I don't know why he feels the need to have so much food around...
Oh that man, whatever possessed him to order all those chickens??? Oh well, the freezer is stocked for winter, we'll share with the kids, and guess what we're having for dinner tonight..... yeah, you got that right..... CHICKEN!!!
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