It’s not every day that oldest my sister texts me with this message: “Do you like chicken feet?” Hmmm. Where could this question possibly be leading? I text back: “Maybe?”
Her text: “We are slaughtering chickens today. Do you want the feet?”
My text, following a mad Web scramble for chicken feet recipes: “Sure!”
So now we are on our way to San Francisco to move a friend to Portland. On the way back, we’ll rendezvous with my sister in Redding to get the chicken feet. Good times!