Half baked chicken and therapy

Yesterday was a pretty normal start to our day. Dustin had a friend stay over night who needed to be up early for church. Good thing our little alarms, a.k.a. Liam and Maggie, were right on top of waking us up with a couple of hours to spare. Though John and I tried to relax and lay around, it simply wasn’t going to happen.

After getting dressed I went into Dustin’s room, and they were already playing some computer game that they were deeply engrossed in. I glanced at his gerbil cage where Honey & Puffy live and I notice the white one is not moving. Not only is little Puffy not moving, but Honey seems to be gnawing on her! Quickly I usher the boys down the stairs. Dustin suspects something is wrong, but I can’t bare for him to witness this scene. I finally tell him.

“Son, Puffy is dead.”

“What? How?”

The tears start to fall. The flood gates open, Dustin’s friend looks on without comment. I hug Dust, explain how death is part of life. Dorothy begins planning a funeral, she tells Dustin that he can have Honey for his own (though she lives in Dustin’s cage, she belongs to Dorothy). Dustin decides that it would be best to not bury the gerbil, for fear that the neighbor’s dog or our cat will dig it up and that it would not be a pretty scene.

Thirty minutes pass. My husband was supposed to be bringing the gerbil down. He comes down the stairs and looks at me and says, “The rat isn’t dead.”

Dustin stares in disbelief.

I believe he will recover from this trauma that I put him through after several years of expensive therapy. Hopefully the next time I tell him that his beloved pet has died, it will really have died.

So, the day goes on somewhat uneventfully. We decide to grill out chicken. It is a beautiful night, and the baird owls are very vocal. I start the grill and we all begin to wind down. The kids play with playdoh and John and I sit on the deck. Other than the pet incident, it has really been a relaxing Sunday.

When I go to take the chicken off of the grill, something isn’t right. No. No. No. We are out of propane! The chicken is barely cooked at all! Gah…

Little Caesar’s to the rescue.

In my fridge this morning is a giant pot of green beans and 6 half baked chicken breasts. I guess I’ll finish cooking them today.

 

Perfect grilled chicken breasts

  • 1/2 cup worsteshire sauce
  • 1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
  • 1/3 cup olive oil
  • 1 1/2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts

Marinate overnight. Grill over direct heat.

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6 thoughts on “Half baked chicken and therapy

  1. Mmmm That chicken recipe sounds great! Glad the gerbil rose from the dead. At least it was 3 hours instead of 3 days. Teehee

  2. Years of therapy may help…oh how I remember that term!

    Hugs to my poor grandchild who *lost* his pet and hugs to the one who planned its funeral…lol…

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