One morning not too long ago, I sat twitching at the dining room table in the throws of a hormone induced anxiety attack of epic proportions. "Let me catch up on my emails," I thought. Because, really, when you are suffering from heart palpitations, what else should you do? My sister sent me this blog post weeks ago with the message, "This is so funny. A client shared it with me and I thought you would enjoy it. I was laughing so hard I was crying. Ron (our brother) loved it too." I figured what the hell and hit the link (you should, too). I knew I had come completely unglued when I realized that I was sitting at the table, alone, eating egg salad on egg and onion matzoh, laughing like a lunatic. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I had to stop reading several times. I came close to falling off my chair. I want a five foot tall metal chicken to leave on my friends' stoops. The chicken possibilities were endless. Then it hit me, I had a chicken. It has been decorating my garden for the past couple of years.
Sure, it is only about two feet tall, we have not named it, and it won't cut you, but it is my own personal chicken. Every time I look at it, I laugh and that my friends is a gift.
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