Tuesday, November 17, 2009

90 minutes

Remaining smell-time for roasting dead bird … pervades house … might try 3rd floor or basement-of-own-smells … is it sick that the live birds are 5 to 10 feet away?

The cat is confused. Will accept lap in exchange. We are both confused each time an exterior door is opened.

The avian veterinarian's latest YahooGroup post did say it was fine to feed one's captive birds from the Thanksgiving table. In fact, if anyone still has a Carolina parakeet squawking 'round, please let me know.

I once fed Squeaky KFC. He loved it; we did not have any furniture — floor-time is an essential part of any young creature's emotional and motor foundation. Babies; you have to play with them while crawling around the floor yourself [which is why it's usually a little easier to do this sort of thing during one's 20s; those of us on the latter side of 30 to 35 are amazed by women like the one I met at some conference or something, who was 43 or so and had just had her first (and somewhat accidental, it was given to us to understand) baby. She admitted without prompting that it was very hard … amazing, but exhausting].

At any rate, this bird we shall eat (mostly he) was raised on a farm with a bad life, I'm sure. Its legs and wings went elsewhere. It still weighed almost 9 pounds. The cat is about 17.

It was $12-16, and it will taste mostly fine; organic is for beef. That's a funny thing to propose.

2 comments:

Hyperblogal said...

Mr. Daisy admires you more than you'll ever know.

hearmysong said...

I never considered the irony of roasting a turkey or chicken in a house of birds.
I'll never think about roasting the same way again!