If you’all don’t live in a rural area, then you may not appreciate this tale. I had to go to town today. Horrors. Leave my lovely, quiet woodsy retreat for town? Oh, well. I did pretty good until I started home and decided to stop at Wal*Mart, something I so rarely do it causes my family to faint when I do, and after I turned off the Interstate traffic balled to a stop in every direction. Nothing moved. Finally several folks who could turned off into a small strip mall, so I did the same, thinking I could exit out the other end and get out of the mess.
Wrong! No one was moving in that direction either. I finally made my way to the suicide lane because Wal*Mart was a left turn about a block down the road and escaped. It wasn’t until I returned home that I learned a chicken truck had overturned on the highway that intersects with the Interstate.
I know they have to haul those birds to Tysons where they . . . well, never mind, I’ll spare you that part, since most folks don’t want to know what happens before they grab that fried chicken leg or nugget and chomp down. This is not a very informative post, but it lets you know how we live, those of us who don’t live in New York or one of the other big cities. Guess who told me about the chicken truck? Our post master. I dropped in there to mail a book and he said he heard it on the radio.
Here’s a terrific blog. Check it out for a great chocolate recipe and some other pertinent information. Angel