The greatest thing about this holiday season is the candycanes, and I get to see who in my family really cooks. I mean, back south, when I lived there, KFC was open, and a bucket of chicken was the replacement for the ham. Maybe chicken is easier to chew with no teeth?
But nothing is better than the days when pops went out and knocked the head off a chicken, brought it inside and grandma cooked it up. Like that darn rooster they use to have. That thing was so mean it use to chase me all around the yard, trying to peck my eye out. I use to have to carry a stick just to collect eggs, he would have made a great REPO Chicken, that big mean thing could get anything from anyone.
But one day, gramps said that he died and granny made chicken noodle soup, and I ate that little bastard until I couldn't eat no more. HA! I got the last laugh!
But anyways, back onto Christmas, if my family got together and one person didn't start the annual farting contest, or seeing what kind of noisy toy they could send the cousins home with, it would be pretty darn good. But, here we go, packing the bags like Juan Valdez and some coffee, taking off, headed south, all going to pile into Grannys 1 bedroom house for a whole afternoon, and sit around, eat, fart, watch some football, and then have the dogs do dishes.
Christmas just don't get any better in my world.
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